Simon, Stolen, Shame

Simon was all of us in Surrey

“Simon” he exclaimed
in the Mac’s Convenience Store
I stopped at after
my paper route
to buy a 7-up.
“No” i said.

He meant the stolen boy
from Senator Reid school
The posters were unneeded
We all knew the fear.

Blonde mop, skinny boy
rosy freckled cheeks
They’ve gone away
Faded, scarred to haunt us.

He shared my family name
and was evidently charming to most all involved
It’s not my shame, but the scars are
i walked the same road, yet it wasn’t me.

Negotiating, capitalizing, scheming
Selling secrets to wrench the wound
the discovery reveals more pain
Until sometime on a page 3 day this year.

He left. Cancer, like my Dad i think.
72 as well, i think. I didn’t read close.
I didn’t need the fear again –
he brought to 92nd and Scott.

Cedar Hills, Whalley Exchange,
Guildford Mews and King George Boulevard
These were ours, closest to a neighbourhood
Now faded into condo shopping schemes
Only we notice the changes
since we were all 12 years old.

The paper told us he was dead
the neighbours never knew
His wife flabbergasted
And i never cried so hard
as i did for Simon in 82.