Four layers of cement boxes,
Stacked by the waters of a creek;
Each one filled with music.
A stranger sits on my bunk,
Eating a box of tiny animals.
It is his room too.
Green beans and meatballs,
In steel boxes in hot water.
A pool of brown gravy!
I accept the filled plastic,
Slouching along the steel rails,
Collecting myself from the assortment.
I find myself in the Rec.,
Once again a disaster.
A cacophony of sounds.
The large orange ball,
Like a hurling meteor,
Gravity descending.
The plastic ball bounces,
Between wooden hands on the green table.
Someone is knocking!
A sharp diamond of light
In the middle of the dark glass.
Then, “”The Cosby Show!”
Theo, are you crying?
There in the dark room in the box?
Theo, are we brothers?
Gary Farlow
