Joey

Joey was my best friend’s brother.
He would play stickball with us
in the street
and we would fight over whose turn it was
to have him on our team.
He was the one
who got us up before dawn
to show us the best place
to watch the sun come up.
Where slanting light butters the branches
a soft gold in the summer
and sets them aflame in the fall,
and thin paint strokes of cloud
glow with a rosy hue against a creamy sky.
I loved to watch the shadows melt away
as sunlight crept into every crevice.
It was beautiful
but I didn’t say so.
Boys didn’t say that.
Joey didn’t mind
when we tagged along to the movies.
He wasn’t even mad
when I dropped the popcorn
because the movie was a lot scarier
than I had thought.
And he didn’t tease me
when I covered my ears and squeezed my eyes shut
for the rest of the film.
But Joey’s not here right now.
He said it was his duty
to go away
and he left on a great grey ship
bigger than anything I had ever seen.
I stood on the dock
squeezed between all the grown-ups
to wave good-bye
and watched until the ship was out of sight.
Everyone else left
but I stayed there on the dock.
Maybe I would stay here
until he came home.
Because he promised that he would come home.
He promised.