The Backyard Woods

by Thomas Riley

We’re running through trees
and losing our breath
and stepping on anything solid or not
and I’m admiring you tearing through brush
with the might of a bear and the grace of a buck

and we’re wondering if boys will always be boys
or if someday soon a man’s foot will come crashing down
on these poor twigs in the creek.

The water here churns solemnly
if that’s something water can do
but I know a boy can churn solemnly
because I’m watching you do it while poking a wet log
because you aren’t sure what to do with your hands

and I’m wondering if boys will always be boys
or if someday soon you won’t ask me what Bella meant
when she played with your palm during study hall.

The creekside trail is scarred with tire tracks
from the ATV we barreled through the trees
each weekend or every other weekend or lately it’s every month
but you’re following the tread marks off-trail
and laughing about when I lost control

and you’re wondering if boys will always be boys
or if someday soon I won’t cry when I crash
and need you to drive while I watch from the hill.

We’re walking through the lawn at your grad party
and remembering when your brother chased me with an ax
and scoffing at the damn developers bulldozing your backyard woods
because we think there might be some old bandana or ball
beyond that chain link fence and string of work lights

and we’re not wondering if boys will always be boys
but if a man’s foot comes crashing down on those poor twigs
then it sure won’t be either of ours.