I knew him

so did you

that small funny kid with the chipped tooth

and gnarly hair

He stood

right over there

A houseplant

Grew from the stale air

and wet bed

from streams of sun that seeped through

the thickened foliage of our cluttered home

penetrating layers of his pale skin

until he was different

We tried to prune him

I rotated his jar

so he would always point

towards the son

I never was

He maintained his own shape

and left us

standing alone

You and I

green thumbed

in our fickled garden

© Richie Smith