paper tigers

childhood friends
and their homes for sale
dropped lines
            of conversation
and laughter
like torn down
fences and the rotting
front porch

, and
all I can think about
are the paper tigers
lost in the grass

how the rain would change their skin
and we'd try
to re-colour them.
      And their feet
              were too
  fragile
for all of the weight we held between us,
for all of the secrets we never shared
because I was too scared
of never again being able to say,

"Welcome home."

but that's where we are now

        isn't it?

chaotically Crayola-coloured animals
wandering the same rooms
with the lights off
and I swear
I can hear your breathing
change
as you reach for the light switch
again
and
again
but
can't
find it

and you make the sounds people make
only when they're stretching

,  and all I can think of is

"Welcome home."

because this is all we've known,
an endless wandering, a lust for time itself
to give it all up

putting it all in your miscoloured hands
that constantly reach out,
while mine have given up holding out as cups
for the wine that never comes
for the
drawing of stick figure battles
from fourth grade
that I had you and I drawn in as the heroes,
and I knew you by your hair each time,
but I never could make you stand up straight.

and I listen for your feet shuffling
because that's how you carry yourself when you're down.

when I saw your mother's eyes five years ago, they
    said you went somewhere
    as if you'd never come back
  as if I couldn't draw you again
and my hands shook as I waved,
  and they haven't stopped since
    because I like to at least pretend
that I was scared to lose you,
that I was scared I lost you,
that I'm still scared I lost you,
    and I can imagine the cruel face of this mistress
we all call

              'growing apart'

and she's standing in the middle of your crooked garage,
as I watch
              two brothers
              with her
              and all of their crooked, heavy feet
              in our safe place
              keeping the paper tigers in place
              as their whispers keep tearing the colour
              and the tearing can only keep
              crying,
              afraid that they'll tear it down.

Welcome home.