| OCR Text |
Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 159 radio to try to make things normal, and the song is "Poetry in Motion". My emotions swirl like some vile mixture in a science fiction movie: vapor could come out my ears. I remember that kiss. I've been kissed. And then this Cling. The front of the radio seems the same as always as I read the dial and listen to the song, but I've got to face it: life isn't simple any more. 2 My mother intercepts me on the way out of the house. She wants to kow where I am going, and adds, "I don't want you going down to Butch's today. Remember what we talked about: it's important to have more than one friend." I don't tell her that I am going out to find Cling and tell him to leave my brother alone, that essentially I am going out to die. "I'm just going over to the park." The park is empty. Two kids are up on the old restroom roof, tearing pieces of tar paper off and throwing them up in loopy, flying saucer tosses. No one is swinging. No one is weaving boondoggle down on the bandstand; summer crafts has been over for a week. I start circling the bandstand on my old green bike, counting the laps. When I was a little kid, they used to have bicycle races around this small track. My initials are carved in the bandstand a dozen times. I remember sitting up on the benches and watching the big guys race and |
