Me and Ewan,
him eight, me five
up at the big woodies.
Big boys approach.
There were bad boys
at the big woodies, we knew,
but these seem friendly.
They talk to us.
I know to be polite
to people who talk to you.
"Is your dad gay?"
they ask.
I don't know
why they're interested
in my dad's disposition,
but I answer,
"Yes."
Ewan, more worldly,
nudges me,
agitated.
"What?"
I ask.
"He is. Usually."
The big boys
are delighted
and wander off,
their work accomplished.
If I could time-jump,
I would reoccupy my head
with more knowledge
than I had at five.
I would say,
"If you mean 'happy',
then yes.
If you mean 'homosexual',
then no.
Not as far as I know."
I think that might perplex them.
