She needed everyone to see what boys could do to each other. His head much too big, his face swollen beyond human. Wrenched awake into memory, I saw him in his cream-colored coffin, The woman I loved, he told me to run when he saw Scotty and Bret leapįrom the stands at Hetzel’s Field with aluminum bats. The last time I thought about Freddy was in a dream. The neighbor’s dog laps through the wall. The city mutters:Ī car backfiring, a scream-a drunk calling, “Kev, you fuck! Where are you?” I still don’t like him, can’t forget his smartass mouth, the way he called meĭirtball, how he laughed at the holes in my bobos.
I’m thinking about the eleventh grade-the year Freddy was killed. The Sound of the Dog Drinking from the Toilet, the Beating of my Heart
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