Boys Don’t Cry

Thinking all day
of you in your frame glasses,
you working, sleepless,
like the rain falling through the canopy

to the rainforest floor.
I worry over what I want to control;

what I will face
but can’t know. In the imagined sea
out beyond, I am biking up and down

the shore, treading the sand.
The green water glitters. A wall of rain

is lodged behind the morning glare.
I stare right into the sun of my dream,

seeing nothing but the white hot center.

I see you diving into the ocean,
being beaten by the waves;
as if you were giving birth, tossed
by the pain it. You are angry
that I do not save you.
Maybe you do not want to be saved

and stick me with your anger.
Is it that simple?
In the morning, I run each day chasing

what stays ahead of me.
The gray skies roll
over the emerald sea.