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?”