Summers infinite,
Daniel and I seagulled,
hunting the tide pools,
scurrying crabs.
At thirteen, whale song shivered our bones.

Sunset fell.
Our legs
shadowed down
empty streets.

We, the sea-salt bronze gods,
brothers forever punk.
We, the trespassers,
fence leapers,
never reaching adulthood.

I’ve counted twenty summers now
and Daniel is far away,
but the whale song remains.

My legs ceased their awkward growth
but night still hounds me back home.

In the mirror, this man
I’ve never recognized
stares back.