Two boys and a dog walk to the river
on the cusp of manhood,
each finishing the last half of a cigarette.
Schooling and lovers
and familial diagnoses left behind them
where they parked their car.
Above them,
the colorless and colorful expanse
of uncertain futures and Colorado sky.
The dog will die in six years
and what then?
How many years will they spend
walking away
and how many times will they return?
Dirt will collect beneath their heals
and there will be other dogs.
A child strapped to ones’s back
and another running along beside
with scraped knees
and an open heart.
The same brand of tobacco
burning between their fingers
and miles of river to be re-explored.