Poetry
Boy Under The Lights
by Steven Rossi
Boy under the lights,
one day you’ll get married.
In the courthouse on Calvert street on a Friday.
Just his mom and your mom,
the four of you running to the car to escape
the rain.
You’ll travel the world,
see places you never dreamed of,
like the house on Chestnut Hill.
Clematis hugging the red brick,
the cats perched in the front windows,
and the patio furniture that frames them.
You’ll see thousands of sunsets,
between skyscrapers in New York City and over the Mediterranean,
but each time
you’ll miss the view of the Superstitions
from Silver Street
and the Saguaros that lined them.
Boy under the lights,
show me how to dance again.
One step at a time,
I follow your lead as the crowd gathers.
The movement flooding our bodies,
and the lights so bright
they wash away the space between us
until I could’ve sworn we were all angels.