You can start at the memories
Of putting on your dad’s shirts
Pretending to be a detective
Because they were trench coat long
Then you can fast forward
To the pushing and shoving second grade
Boys’ restroom, nestled in the valley
The tractor mailbox on the way to high school
The long pacing telephone conversations
With a girl you never wanted to date
The gradual understanding that you were different
Somehow, not sure really, but just subtle variance.
