Alan

Alan

Alan was my best friend
the summer was so long
we hiked in hills behind the house
shot bb's at rusty tin cans

Alan and I were buddies
we hung around a lot
played baseball after school
until the sun went down
he really had a spark in his eyes

Alan had a dream life
an Ozzie and Harriett family
every imaginable gadget and toy
and at least four baseball gloves
his older brother loved him like crazy

Somehow we competed
although I think just in fun
But Alan was always better
our friendship was a gift from God

Alan got good grades in class
he never really tried that hard
all the girls flirted with him
I never thought Alan was that good looking
who is at thirteen?

Little did I know
that summer in 1962
that as Alan and I
walked back from town
all tanned and in our shorts
back then flip-flops were just called thongs

We had just bought pea shooters
and a bag of peas
walking down the sidewalk
Alan hit everything he aimed at
I missed most, hit a few
our friendship was a gift from God

Down the road a ways
we came to a divided highway
had signal lights and all
with an island in the middle
and a train trestle on the other side

We were at that island
pushing the silly light button
so we could be on our way
Alan just took off
I still don't know why

In an instant Alan was gone
a tanker truck pulling over
I remember the driver running at me
telling me "please don't look"

No one dies at thirteen
especially not Alan
not in front of my eyes
it didn't really happed, did it?
I was frozen in time

Back at my house
everyone was nice that day
I remember my Mom ran me a hot bath
she hugged me, told me to relax
everything will be ok

As I stood by the hamper
starring at my thongs
emptying my pockets
a Boy Scout knife
seventy eight cents
baseball cards
and peas

I still miss Alan
he was my best friend
except
that gift was gone forever

Still sometimes I wonder
when I feel a sharp sting
Is that my buddy Alan?
Sooting a pea at me?
it must be
Alan always hit everything he aimed at