tag team matches were my favorite
the way they waited until just the right moment to slap hands, and rage on with new energy
rope shaking
coordinated uniforms
a bond taking on the world
i spent a lot of time watching them
legs crossed
sunday mornings
on-and-off eyeing last weeks doritoes crumbs hiding deep enough in green-shag-carpet pockets to be vacuum ignored, my “operation” ready pincher-fingers poking and prodding
i never ate a booger, but the red dust collateral-damage fragments found their way into my mouth
from time to time
hey, my stomach rumbled, and i couldn’t miss the match
bulldogs
warriors
bushwakers
brothers
and freebirds
i believed them, more than the moving voices thumping around in their own safe rooms behind and around me, joined together islands making a home, house, encapsulator of secrets and mirrors
alliances changed
interviews hijacked
an interpretative tussle-dance playing out on colored tubes while making sense of a childhood in real time, similarities shifted in my springtide mind (he is like him), connections made to characters
and caregivers
i, they, gave new strength and roles
i could relate
sort out the thunder from the rain
battle royals were saved for saturday nights
i hid under my covers while watching, wincing, and covering, real blood, real punishing blows, and coffin nails
they would leave
i’d get up
shaking my head
“was it real?”