Kings

When we were kings
I walked the rock-grated road to your house
to play our play, sometimes
in the field out back we called the realm.
We tamed the feral weed stocks that grew
over us like corn, lost in mazes of your making
Because we were still not grown up.

When we were kings
My parents moved that following year
six hundred miles in all the wrong directions.
On threads of fiber optic cables
we continued our crusades, to play our play
And pretend that we weren't growing up.

When we were kings
You would visit me in my cramped apartment
Listening to stories of empires
past with the friend left when I moved.
Now you played with me as we forged
monarchies anew, dreaming as we knew
we were growing up.

When we were kings
That senior year of high school
we three made a pact.
Our play days were history
But a road trip between the distances
was adequate in our time
With my brothers.