Where I live, we say, "Drive safe, and watch for deer."

What we mean is, "I love you."

I think of 12th Night, and I ride the hills like the huntress you cast me as.

When i see a deer, i think of you.

And I smile.

Nod.

Sigh.

Light a cigarette and Drive on.

There have been so many deer this summer.

But, I don't chase you any more.

I am not your moon.

You are not the sun.

You were a boy I loved.

You were a boy who bullied me.

You were a boy who loved me.

You are a man I don't know, and never will.

I miss you.

I don't know why.

I always miss you.

My therapist says it's because of the abuse.

You were my first friend. The first place that was safe, and then, you weren't.

You alternated love and cruelty with me for 15 years.

That gives you the emotional primacy of a parent, to me. The addictive quality of heroin.

The next thing I'm doing in therapy is getting you out of my head.

I'm 42, much too old for an imaginary friend.

It scares me, the thought of my mind without your ghost in it.

You've been there for 37 years, the one constant in the chaos.

However, you are not the sun.

You are a black hole.

I will escape your pull.

Dark star.