when I was a teenager,
a Marlboro Red hanging from 
the corner of his mouth.
He introduced himself 
through gritted teeth and clenched fists,
and then stomped down the hall 
slamming doors behind him

He was a good guy to have around 
in the event you were being bullied
by the kid that once invited you to a sleep over

or when the drummer from your old punk rock band
sucker punches you in the nose
in front of your whole group of friends
on a cold rainy day in high school,

What began as friendship
for one scared little boy, 
slowly became a steam engine,
pulling cars full of toxicity
from one relationship to the next,

saying things that can’t be unsaid, 
and doing things that can’t be undone,
like tearing apart a photo, 
you and your girl at a concert the night 
you found out you were expecting a baby.

One cool Autumn evening,
the trees shivering softly in the wind
we sat together in quiet meditation,
staring into our separate futures.
"I understand," he said.
 
We stood and I followed him out to the street.
We shook hands, then he lit a cigarette.
And when I stepped back into the empty apartment,
the echo of my family still clinging to the walls,
I cried