Pillow Book

(Written on the back of a beer mat, small and neat to fit between the bar's logo and address. Sam was out with friends in a small bar near his halls during his fifth month at Stanford, and found this when he idly flipped over the mat his drink was delivered on. The beer mat was lost in the fire, like everything else.)




Remember back when you were six
And we played out in the scrapyard?
Two tin cans and ten feet of string
Between us, but I could hear you.

Chinese whispers when you were eight,
All three of us, training and game.
You breathed secrets, then "Don't tell Dad!"
Kinda missed the point there, kiddo.

(But I didn't tell Dad.)

By twelve you were too old for games.
Used to help you with your homework:
Physics, waves, the speed of sound...
Straight As, always, and we both smiled.

So call me sometime, dumbass.
I know you know how.



Here