notes from bp

Nine boys held hands in a room. The days were long the nights were cold, the tenth boy cursed himself with gold. Inside his head we found nine rooms. Each room was round, the walls were white. Nine doors. Nine locks, nine keys, these are maps the nine boys drew. They set out one morning, long way home. Bridge of sighs. Tell me more. Let's talk in private metaphor. Somewhere, the sound of a dripping tap. The tenth boy lay upon my lap. Nine boys danced and sang and played. Today it feels easy. Onlooker looking, always looking. Silver watch, always ticking. Your hungry tongue, these are songs we should have sung. Nine boys fight about the rules. Time passes. Ten years. Ten boys on a street. They meet, they greet each other with things remembered, things forgotten. They pull out sheets of things they had written years ago. Time passes. Things change. Their fears, their daring, the things they said. Tonight is full moon. Years and years they pass too soon. Onlooker standing by the window. What is he thinking? Somewhere, on an ocean, a ship is sinking. Nine boys gaze at far away. Sharp, unforgiving light. Who decides what's wrong and right? Where shall we go? Labyrinth everywhere. Hide and seek in a clothing store. Tell me more. Tell me everything you know. A mirror is a dangerous toy. Tenth boy weeping, cursed with gold. He came here to be bought and sold. Blood red rose and purple prose. Nine boys stare into full-moon night. Remember how frightened we used to be? Ghost story. Windswept night, clouds whirlpooling. We laughed at our foolishness the next morning. We drank tea. We boarded a train and came home. All alone. Time passes. We raise our glasses, propose a toast. Rocky seabeach, deserted coastline, we told our stories. We spoke lies. It was the truth. The onlooker waits. The gates swing open. Come with me. Run. Time passes. Skeleton key, sparklig wine. I spoke to you, you spoke to me. Everything was meant to be. They cannot understand. But there is time, and time passes. Nine boys sleeping on moonlit beds. Nine boys dead, we grieve for the living.