on some summer afternoons
i used to kneel as if in
prayer by an open bedroom
window with my gaze fixed
on nothing in particular
as random sounds floated
in aboard warm breezes —
a buzzing bee bumping
awkwardly into the screen
or an unseen boy shouting
curse words in the distance
and the occasional car
cruising down my lane
on its way to someplace
grander than huron street.
occasionally i would view
a friend biking past or
camped on his lawn calling
for a game of catch and yet
i remained rooted there
despite two painful knees —
glued to the floorboards
of my room as if waiting
for some sign or omen
from god or mother mary
that everything would turn
out just fine in the end
for this shy little boy
with a head full of worries
and heart forever worn
on his sleeves.
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