Four layers of cement boxes,
Stacked by the waters of a creek,
Each one filled with music.
A stranger sits on my bunk,
Eating a box of tiny animals,
It is his room, too.
Green beans and meatballs
In steel boxes in hot water.
A pool of brown gravy!
I accept the filled plastic,
Slouching along the steel rails,
Collecting myself from the assortment.
I find myself in the Rec,
Once again a disaster.
A cacophony of sounds.
The large orange ball,
Like a hurling meteor,
Gravity descending.
The plastic ball bounces
Between wooden hands on the green table —
Someone is knocking!
A sharp diamond of light
In the middle of the dark glass.
Then: “The Cosby Show!”
Theo, are you crying?
There in the dark room in the box?
Theo, are we brothers?