Third Place

Third Place. Youngest child. Bronze Medal.

Borrowed books. Pretzels. Chlorine.

I loved you once.

I guess I still do.

Do you remember when we were kids together?

I'd meet you at the arcade two blocks over. Used to beg my dad for change.

All that neon.

You could light us up like a dashboard the day after a paycheck.

Like a christmas tree. Like a promise.

Yeah, you could glow.

You were pretty, even then.

I got older. So did you.

Used to see you at the mall. You know the one off of Olive?

What am I talking about? You remember.

It used to echo in there, used to roar with all the people.

Tuscan brown and brushed steel were like a religion then.

Never suited me, but you wore them well.

Remember how we'd share our meals? Read the books we bought?

(Or stole)

Pore over the game booklets like we were studying for the bar.

Look at our CDs and wonder what was hiding in that plastic.

Funny how time can carve things up.

I'm old now.

I got lazy, maybe we did.

Still see little flickers of you in places.

I was out the other night, my problems were thirsty.

Ought to quit but whatever.

Thought I caught a glimpse of you over my shoulder.

Only an echo. A little piece still hanging around.

I felt guilty. We're always looking for you

When we sent you away.

Bronze medal. Youngest Child. Third Place.