We hurtled around the curve of Lake Ontario,
so deep & wide it seemed like the ocean.
It looked like the ocean, moved like the ocean.
But salt water wasn’t churning in its heart. It was fresh, pure.
I was obsessed with collecting Pokémon cards, the Jungle set.
That seemed like a good distraction.
It was the summer of 1999, & I was hunting
for Snorlax, Flareon & Clefable.
Trading cards can be so important for a twelve-year-old.
A world to escape into, where the monsters lie flat on a table.
We had come from Niagara Falls, the four of us.
All that pressure pouring down, water on rock on water.
In a bland hotel in Toronto we shared a bed.
Doing what brothers normally do.
I fell asleep with my heart dancing around my ribs,
remembering when we laid together in secret.
At home he would guide my hand to his penis.
North of the border, I was stick straight.
We walked along the lake, two pairs, & the wind
blew through me, but I was strong & unruffled. I was strong.
Photo by Terry Lee.