you broke your arm last week because you
fell out of a tree, because
you are a ten year old boy. when the bone
cracked you cried and were loud as a howler monkey
when he can't find any fruit to eat. but now
you have your cast on, and you are dangerous and
cool. there is a fire of adventure kindled
in your eye, right? you will tell the story about
how you had to use magazines and rubber bands
to hold your arm in place, before you could get
to the doctor (don't tell them your dad set the makeshift
splint for you. don't tell them how you sobbed
through the entire car ride). you can do anything now,
daredevil. weren't they jealous when Christine cooed over how brave
you are, when you pointed out the branch that you fell from? (they
don't need to know you fell off the lowest branch)
she's your girlfriend now, because you are so brave, but
she will only kiss you on the cheek, because you are a boy.
you are hot shit (you learned to curse when your father
exclaimed a new vocabulary when he saw you fall). don't tell them
you fell out of the tree because you slipped on
some rotten bark, and if they find out? the worms wriggling
inside the dead wood attacked you like a more potent
hydra than the one you learned about in class.