_____________
We sat in the sea oats
after sunset
smoking cigarettes
& laughing.
He told me about girls,
confidence, the world.
As we watched the stars
& the lights on the bay;
he extracted from his pocket,
a mechanism for calming
transportation:
a rolling machine.
I didn’t understand
what it was,
I was eleven after all,
but he proceeded to
twist up a joint.
He taught me how to inhale,
holding it deep in my lungs
until I thought I would
explode,
while we watched the stars
& the lights on the bay.
I didn’t notice a change
as those stars dripped over
the horizon,
as the moon melted
into the mist.
I felt nothing as I laughed
& laughed & laughed.
An elderly couple
walked along the strand,
their toes in the surf.
I ran to them pointing
& laughed in their faces.
“Just another crazy kid,”
they thought.
Hours later,
we returned home,
I was still eleven,
but I’d never be
a child again.
Image Credit: ©Dissolve
MEET THE POET:
ANDRE F. PELTIER (he/him) is a Lecturer III at Eastern Michigan University where he teaches literature and writing. He lives in Ypsilanti, MI, with his wife and children. His poetry has recently appeared in various publications like CP Quarterly, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Provenance Journal, About Place, Novus Review, Wingless Dreamer, and Fahmidan Journal, and most recently in Lavender and Lime Literary. In his free time, he obsesses over soccer and comic books.
