Twelve moons came and went in the land of foreign tongues. Boy Blackberry returned and was greeted by friends and family. He was especially excited to see Boy Evergreen once more. The boys re-united. They shared a handful of times underneath the waxing and waning Honey, Thunder, and Dog moons. Though when that summer ended, Boy Evergreen brought a lot of his clothes, and drove out to the school surround by corn. Underneath this year’s forthcoming Milk Moon, Boy Evergreen would once again have his name called. He would walk across a line, and have quite a nice sheet of paper handed to him, with his name on it.
When the same summer ended, Boy Blackberry moved away from his home once more. He moved into the loud, noisy, and grey city. He lived with his good friends. Those whom he had once touched instruments, and made the sounds of playing with Legos.
Again Boy Blackberry and his friends touched instruments and made the sound of playing with Legos. For some reason though, the noise of the city blended with the sound of this new music. No matter how hard he tried, Boy Blackberry could not hear the sound of playing with Legos, without also hearing the sort of noise Boy Evergreen’s car had once made.
For almost Twenty-Four moons now, Boy Blackberry has lived in the city. He touchs instruments with the hopes of hearing the sounds of playing with Legos, drinks rare combinations of water, malt, hops, and yeast, coffee, and occasionally inhales the smoke of roll-your-own cigarettes or funny green pinecones. Boy Blackberry decided not to attend another school for awhile. He worked and saved money to start attending a school nearby. Boy Blackberry and Boy Evergreen rarely see each other anymore. In fact, it has been almost Twelve moons since they last sat together, and laughed.
Upon the waxing and waning of the Two-Hundred and Sixty-Forth moon, Boy Blackberry fell asleep and dreamt of his old friend, maybe his best friend. Oftentimes, Dreams escape language. Even still, words can join hands, form a circle, and dance around Dream’s campfire. Look now upon this primal thing, a scream that wished it were a sun:
A slow-moving piano reminds you of this world.
Open your eyes, give your body a stretch, now clean up after yourself.
I put my long-johns on, my striped t-shirt on, then blow my nose into a checkered hanky.
I choose to glance at that pinned up dental job application and notice:
Either “a classmate, a co-worker, or a friend” will do, for a “Personal Reference”.
I think of all the things Wheaton’s Women might say,
When a city dentist asks if I can show up on time.
Then, in that empty box, that “personal” line, I see your name appear.
In my mind I think, and on my tongue I speak, “Alex”.
I had forgotten your name.
For five working years, I didn’t even have to think to use your name.
Now I hesitate.
The realization, then awareness of this gouges a hole in my mind.
From some storage silo, almost full to the brim,
Spills all the rancid and syrupy blueberry pie filling.
I begin to cry like I did as a child.
The same as the time I wrote a note to you in my secret language,
Screaming “Fuck You!”
I folded it up, and meant to hand it to you in the back of my dad’s station wagon.
But it felt so good just to see you again
I blink, and my chest swells.
I remember the dream had just a minute ago.
You and me wandered around some vacant dream space,
Or maybe it was Indiana.
We laughed the whole time, and squinted our eyes.
I asked about your girl,
Saw her face in my mind.
Your only response was a finger to you mouth, and an inaudible “Sssh”.
How selfish of my sleeping self!
Can I not give you something to say?
Boy Blackberry woke up that morning and forgot the dream. He did realize though, upon waking, that he had known Boy Evergreen for Twenty years. He broke down weeping when he realized that although he had known Boy Evergreen for Twenty years, he had only been close friends with him, maybe best friends, for Seventeen. There was a void, an emptiness no craft could cross. Boy Blackberry wept and wondered what had become of Boy Evergreen, what sort of Man he was becoming. For weeks that followed, whenever Boy Blackberry mind’s pinecone would wander into space, and wonder of Boy Evergreen, whether in the car, or at home, or in bathrooms, Boy Blackberry would begin to cry. He wept because he felt a new feeling. A feeling that had filled his body with a new color. The color of unknowing.
