Tarzan, King of the Apes

TARZAN, KING OF THE APES (Or, I’ve Never Told Anyone) I’ve never told anyone he was my best friend and we used to swing out over a cliff near the river holding onto a vine so thick you had to use both hands. It was our secret place where we used to drink a beer, smoke a joint, pretend we were Tarzan, King of the Apes. The drop was at least fifty feet, but we were too young to be scared of falling. I’ve never told anyone the day he fell his hands did not slip nor were we so drunk or stoned he accidentally let go. I’ve never told anyone we had had a fight that when he came swinging back I stuck out my foot and kicked him in the stomach. I’ve never told anyone about the fear in his eyes, how he reached for the pain, let go of the vine as it swung back out over the cliff. I never blamed myself. He knew the vine was thick, that it required two hands. I’ve never told anyone he was my best friend that after the fall I spent hours swinging back and forth out over the cliff. I held on with both hands. I am Tarzan, King of the Apes. Copyrighted August 1, 2011 Jim Brewer