Boy Scout
I cry at Chain Bridge
in my third year as a tenderfoot.
It's the same thing,
when father takes his time
showing up and the earth
gapes all the way to chaos.
It's when the money runs out
and the business fails.
The scouts all laugh
as they stand near their
neat packs with all their
plans piled beside them.
I am 13 in the dangerous
age of sissies.
I wonder what
the crying does.
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