The Woods

The endless woods of our youth
initiated us into
men.
We became explorers,
hunters, conquistadors.
We were kings down there.

We ruled our kingdom with inflated responsibility
and wreckless joy,
and the wonders we discovered,
imagined,
and still exaggerate,
have sustained us even now.

The river still runs through it all,
only,
the logs we crossed have become slabs of concrete and asphalt,
the vines we swung on have twisted into power lines,
the forts we built have grown into suburbian McMansions
with fences,
and the debris
carried down the current form curses in my mouth
and leave a burning aftertaste of bile.