can you imagine?

I think the first time we did it was when I was four. We all had Mickey Mouse ears on. Not mine of course. I've never been to Disney Land. My parents wanted to wait till I could remember. By the time I could I was too old to care. Bad idea, waiting for anything. Like working hard all year for two weeks of pleasure. Why not enjoy the work? Then you don't need a vacation.

So we had these Mickey Mouse ears on, from when Laura went to Disney Land. And we're sitting on a brick wall that's holding back a bajillion tons of dirt and probably the whole house too. There's gravel in the flowerbed, and a tree we used to climb leaning out over the grass, and us. It's not rare for the three of us to be together, or sitting in Laura's back yard like we are. But there's this look in our eyes, and you know we're not there right now. I mean, we are. We're posing for a picture, and we're smiling and all. But we weren't there. Our eyes have that glazed look, like a kid who walks in a department store, touching all the coats with his hand as he walks circles around the women's department. You know he's touching the coats because the coats are moving, but you know he's not there. He's probably an actor and he's running his hand along the curtain after a performance. He's waiting for his girl to change, and he's the hero. Boys always make themselves a hero, when they're there and not here. She'll tell him he was wonderful, and the janitor will look at him enviously as they kiss. He'll be envied; he'll have what they want.

And perhaps that's what we had, what we wanted, the first time we did it. In the hedge behind Laura's house we stockpiled the swords, and the treasure that took us all Saturday to bury. Golden goblets, chests of Spanish coins, rubies, probably iguanas and dogs and kangaroo rats because we liked them more than jewels. It was back to the ship, which the others called the swingset, but that was ok with us, because they couldn't see the treasure like they couldn't see the sails. We swung higher than any other kids, because the faster we swung, the sooner we'd catch that merchant ship. The sooner we'd be safe in our fort, spending stuffy summer afternoons counting our treasure in the shade of our imaginations.

I think when I was eight, it happened again, in the rafters above my friend's garage. Construction sites are inspirational to kids like sunsets are to lovers. Every unfinished wall is an excuse to invent something new. This isn't a loft, it's the Olympics, and the American gymnasts will beat the Russians once and for all. And on the ground, a hockey game will begin, as soon as Dad moves the car. But how strong are you? How long can you hold yourself on the parallel bars, and can you turn around? Are you scared? And skinny arms flex like sapplings and we don't fall. Or we're mobsters, and here in the insulation we'll hide our contraband. And then we have to stop doing it when the sheetrock goes up, and there aren't any holes cut into the Olympics. They wouldn't. Adults are so practical. Heating costs and all. Who heats a garage? But never fear, because we'll fight the Texans from our fort in the back yard. Because the Texans are the enemy today, why else? And do you think you could throw a water balloon into the road? Of course I can. I did once, and it hit a police car. No it didn't! Yes I did! Even ask... and now we're fighting ourselves. The Texans go back to Texas becuase it's the Swedish we hate now, and the Swedish hate the Scottish now. And they'll hate the Cherokee later, because everyone has a bit of Indian in them. We shoot bow and arrow too. Because we hunt bears and deer between the fort and the fences. Bears live in gardens these days. But it's dinner time and while we eat macaroni and cheese and hotdogs, the deer will recover their energy, because we'll hunt them until it's time to ride my bike home, where I can't do it, because I can't do it alone.

Now, I can't do it at all. Sex is permissible, but it isn't. Adults can have sex, but adults can't do it. It's not realistic. Condoms are realistic, but flying kites off the back of motorhomes is stupid. Waking up next to him is allowable, but don't associate with dragons. Porn is creative, but pirate ships aren't powered by swings. Grow up? Screw you! You don't know where Laura lived. You don't know where I hid my treasure!