9.25.1986/age 16


      I'll never know if it was my fault. People said it was, said it was the poems that did it because they were right by his side. Some people even thought I told him to do it. The police said my number was on the redial. I wonder what he would have said It was odd, I woke up that morning with a start. I know I felt it, I knew it then. Maybe I didn't.

      I try to retrace anything he said the day before, I can't remember. But I still see him running to make his bus, late as usual. he didn't call that night, he always did. Some nights he would come over and throw me into my pajamas, tuck all the covers around me and kiss my face and forehead and tell me how much he loved me. He was so gentle. I look up in the sky, because that's where I picture him being. he loved the lake and the rocks, so I go there often because I feel close to him there, and it's quiet and lonely: I can sit and cry for hours and no one bothers me.

      He took care of me like I was his responsibility, made sure I was never hurt, tried tom give me so much because he said I'd been cheated so badly. We talked first thing every morning so he could wake up to my voice. Once I was telling him how amazing he was and I remember him saying to me, "Let me tell you something: for all the shit you've been through it makes you that much of a batter person." I'll never forget it, and he had it far worse than I did. I don't remember everything he said, but I do remember the infamous Matthew quite, "Fuckin' A, did you know that Gary Numan and Dead Kennedy's tapes are recorded REALLY loud?" he said it three times because I couldn't hear him.



© 1986/2001