Poetry & Praise: glorious



It’s a game they play. Sometimes Billy knows he’s playing and sets the bait. Sometimes even George knows he’s playing, but his rules are different. Billy thinks the rules are all his, but he’s wrong about that, and sometimes George teaches him that and it makes him mad. George’s rules are switchblade vicious and Billy doesn’t think that’s fair. George’ll lead you down a dark alley and before you know it you don’t know anymore which way home is. Billy’s rules are more like punching bags and a bloody nose is more respectable than that razor snick that leaves an ugly scar. That’s what Billy thinks, since he’s the one throwing punches. Me, I’m just standing out here watching the rope swing and counting out beats, trying to hear the rhythm that will show me how to jump.