About A Boy

A boy was an infant for a while,
then a boy.

A boy did not think he should be here.

A boy imagined a difference,
and it did not happen. 

A boy was menaced by his mirror
with a face that was familiar, so he changed it. 
But the face within that new face remained present.
The two had common eyes
and softened the same way
when they became melancholy.

A boy grew to disbelieve his mirror.
What he saw in there instead
was a movie. That actor
looked young all the time.

A boy learned to comb the actor’s hair
and to play his banjo.
He saw the actor’s wife
in the background, another actor.

A boy would sometimes pause the movie and ask
if what was before him there
was the difference he had imagined
and wished for when he was young.

Really, I couldn’t tell you, responded the actor.
I’m a stranger here myself. 

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

3 responses to “About A Boy

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