Boy You

“Boy you’re going to carry that weight a long time
I never give you my pillow
I only send you my invitations
And in the middle of the celebrations
I break down”*

Boy You
It isn’t you
It’s you
from before. I won’t tell them who you are.
I think of you now. How much you would hate that.
Far, hiding. It isn’t hiding, you would say and I’d feel stupid. Worse, I would feel bad

I don’t like to look for you
I know you’re there of course
Others know where you are
They sit behind you, next to you and the back of your head means nothing
The back of your head is not full of meaning
I saw the fear in your hair, and a childhood in your neck
The back of your head takes no stand, declares no emnity, defends no religion
Everything that is foolish and beloved is caught there
Fragile it might be, but my hands won’t touch it either.

* The Beatles