His mom and dad left him there, with three boxes of memories and a set of car keys. They left him there with a guy, that looked he might kill him in his sleep. The boxes didn’t even get unpacked; rather they are shoved under the extra long twin bed. The star athlete’s trophies, and medals, the constant reminder of the standard he has to keep up. Here in this whole diamond mine everyone is already polished, and prepared to be bought, sold, compared, and sold again.


Keys in hand, to a car that could take him anywhere, he finds him self sitting.

In a parking lot with his “highlights of the season” laid out on pages of his high school colors.

Pictures end up on the floor board, in the back seat, in little pieces. Ready to be put back together, to make a bigger picture, a better player.


An awesome liar.

He ends up on the side of the road, in a college town parallel parking spot. Watching a street light change. The warm red and yellow, tones of fall, when everything is old and familiar, contort to a harsh pale green. New and bizarre like weeds in the spring, like his new roommate.


And all the cars here.


And even though this is Main Street, it’s nothing like home.


In his head he is running, blindly in to the dark, from someone he can’t see.


From the pictures


From the trophies





From the past.


But running too fast would catch him up to the present.


And jolt him into the future,
So he starts the car.

And he races the sunrise,
Daring it to beat him to the high point in the sky.