Into the morning mist on the foothills.
We found a pool, fed by a freshet
Of cold spring water. "One day when we are men,"
He said, "We"ll meet here at the pool again.
Promise?" "Promise," I said. And we took a pledge
In blood, nicking our fingers on a penknife
And pressing them to each other"s lips. Sweet salty kiss.
Late evening, past cowdust time, we trudged home:
He to his mother, I to my dinner.
One wining-dancing night I thought I"d stay out too.
We went to the pictures-Gone with the Wind-
A crashing bore for boys, and it finished late.
So I had dinner with them, and his mother said:
"It"s past ten. You"d better stay the night.
But will they miss you?"
I did not answer but climbed into my friend"s bed-
I"d never slept with anyone before, except my father-
And when it grew cold, after midnight,
He put his arms around me and looped a leg
Over mine and it was nice that way
But I stayed awake with the niceness of it
My sleep stolen by his own deep slumber . . .
What dreams were lost, I"ll never know!
But next morning, just as we"d started breakfast,
A car drew up, and my parents, outraged,
Chastised me for staying out and hustled me home.
Breakfast unfinished. My friend unhappy. My pride wounded.
We met sometimes, but a constraint had grown upon us,
And the following month I heard he"d gone
To an orphanage in Kalimpong.
4.
I remember you well, old banyan tree,
As you stood there spreading quietly