the land of the vegetables

your taller figure vanishes into the brush
being away from our parents—it gives me a rush
trawling for crayfish down by the creek
the sun chasing saturday to the end of the week
almost losing your step on the rocks
laughing with water soaking our socks
a stone with a pattern buried in the clearing
thats all i can remember before your disappearing
thats all i can say to your mom when it happened
we searched for your clothes to the end of the map and
nothing was there

arranging the rocks in a figure to bring your soul back
i dont know who it was that told me to try that
lighting a candle on the road by the start of the trail
the shattering sound of your dad as he wails
the kids dont go into those woods anymore
you closed it behind you when you entered the door
told me not to follow, that youll be right back
lights in the sky in the shape of the coalsack
colored lights in the sky that only we could see
our parents said we were knee-deep in a fantasy
then you came back

you showed up in high school, i remember your face
you grew ten years older and spoke of a race
you were too cool for me then but you kept me around
american spirit menthols behind the school grounds
id ask "what happened?" but youd just freeze up
if youd said what i knew now id think it was made up
listening to your jpop cds on a ride in your car
winding into the forest, we followed a star
"thank you," you said, in the woods i dont know where
"for what?"
"for the rocks you arranged that i saw from up there"