A POEM - A BRIEF LOSS OF HIS IDENTITY

A BRIEF LOSS OF HIS IDENTITY
There was a stretch,
in the twelfth grade,
when our friend Chris wasn’t human.
We couldn’t understand why,
but he’d somehow devolved
into this sick, obnoxious
Frankenstein-type monster.
He’d lurch around,
half walk and half run,
making the guttural sounds
of a wordless baby.
Now and then he’d come up
and kick or punch at us,
then fall away,
leaning or jogging
in circles around us.
At first me and my friend Micah
looked at each other wondering,
“now what the hell is this?”
but very soon it got on our nerves.
When we saw him coming
up for an attack
we’d clench our fists
and sock him good
on the side of the head
or in the stomach,
and send him off for a while,
buzzing and whining
in his great leaning circles.
This went on for a few months,
then one day he came in to school
and was back to normal.
None of us spoke
about the incident then.
But now and then we run into him,
and ask him
what the hell it was,
that had happened to him,
during those months,
and all he can do is gasp
and laugh and ask us what
we’re talking about.