John Biscello

Monday, April 1st

Went bowling with George last night.

He refused to pick up the ball,

just stood there, frozen, blank,

his hands rsing toward his ears

in a lullaby clasp

as if he was planning on taking a nap.

Then, in a softly cryptic voice, he told me

that he had been having flashbacks–

another time, another place, another George,

a George-less George who didn’t enjoy

killing time

but rather avoided it like the plague.

I turned away from George,

who had become unfamiliar, strange,

George-less,

and hurled my ball down the lane,

instantly comforted by the sound of ten pins falling.

Tomorrow night

I think I’ll go bowling with Alan.

He works at Target

and is a video game junkie.

I hope George finds himself again.

For his own sake.