Before I closed my eyes I saw a moth in the sky & I wish I could fly that high {in the night I'm wild eyed}
September 21st, 2012
6:45 PM
“It’s right there, Lisa. Catch it-”
The moth fluttered away as Lisa thumped to the grass, scowling slightly at the boy giggling at her from his perch on the patio. “You couldn’t have caught it either!”
Peter grinned, then uncupped his hands to reveal two moths. They flew away and Peter watched them go, still smiling. The setting sun highlighted the red hues in his hair, usually hidden by the dark brown. A small bruise sat on his cheekbone, but it was fading and yellow.
Lisa huffed. “That’s not fair. You’re like an animal whisperer or something. They all like you.”
“Even hornets?”
Lisa nodded. “Yes.”
“What about Mrs. Callio’s cat? Sweetums?” Peter teasingly questions, referring to the Castle’s neighbor’s cat, who Maria had insisted was Satan given feline form.
Lisa shudders. “Okay, all animals except for him. But you’re basically Doctor Doolittle, Peter! It’s so weird.”
Peter flops onto the grass beside Lisa. “It’s not weird; you’re weird.”
They’re looking up at the sky, the sun halfway down. Mrs. Castle’s taking Frankie to his soccer practice, so they were left at home with the specific instructions not to set the house on fire. She should be home soon, so they’re just hanging out in the backyard.
“Hey, Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you staying over tonight?”
“Can’t. Dad wants me home tonight. Maybe tomorrow, though.”
“Your dad sucks.”
Peter laughs. “Yup.”
“You should let my dad beat up your dad.”
“That’s a crime, Lisa!” Peter’s laughing, curling up on the grass as Lisa joins in. “He can’t do that.”
Lisa sits up excitedly, her hair full of grass and leaves. The sun turns her brown hair into streaks of gold and bronze. “Not if he does it with a mask. Like in Batman!”
“That’s called being a vigilante; it’s a crime too,” Peter points out, hand on his stomach, staring at the sky.
Lisa falls back onto the grass. “I would be a great superhero.”
“Sure.”
Lisa shoves him. “Would too. I would be called….”
She taps her fingers against her chin, considering, “Marvelous-Girl. I would have a cape and a suit, and I would work with the Avengers…”
“Booo.”
“You could be my sidekick.”
“Wait.”
“Your name would be Brainstorm,” Lisa decides, much to Peter’s protests, “You can be my guy in the chair. You would be, like researching stuff and hacking into computers.”
“Nooooo.”
“But you’re so smart! We could be a crime-fighting duo! We could be called the Terrific Two!”
Peter flops onto his stomach. “I thought you wanted to be a crime-fighting duo with your dad.”
Lisa waves his words away. “Dad’s got Uncle Billy. They’re best friends and partners. We are also best friends and therefore should be a team.”
“Who’s Uncle Billy?”
“Oh! He’s dad’s friend. He’s with dad right now. You can meet him when they come back.”
“K.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the sky painted in blood-red orange and royal purples, blushing pinks and ocean blues on opposite sides of each other, saying goodnight to the sun. Lisa and Peter breathe in and out, lying next to each other on the ground. Peter’s not wearing any shoes and Lisa’s jeans are definitely grass-stained by now.
“So, is that a yes on the crime-fighting thing?”
Peter rolls so that he’s facing Lisa. “Okay. If one of us ever gets powers, we’ll be superheroes. Promise?”
Lisa holds out her pinky. “Pinky promise.”
They shake pinkies, and return to staring at the sky, the suburb of Manhattan unusually quiet for the night. Peter can hear crickets chirping and raccoons rustling around in the neighbor’s trash, Sweetums the Demon Cat hissing at them from his perch.
“Did you do the homework?”
“Already memorized the poem.”
Lisa twists to face him, indignant. “You did not!”
“I like memorizing poems,” Peter protests, “So I just chose one from memory.”
“Then say one.”
“Which one?”
Lisa yawns. “A pretty one.”
Peter yawns too, because yawns are contagious. “Okay. Um. Well, there’s this one. It’s called Trees.”
He speaks softly, as if the two children curled together in a pile of leaves and grass, one wearing a sweatshirt and the other unfeeling of the cold, were the only two people alive on the earth.
“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.”
Lisa watches him with half-closed eyes. “Who’s it by?”
“A lady named Joyce Kilmer,” Peter turns and faces the sun again, which is only slightly visible by the supernova of colors at one end of the earth. “It’s suppose to be ‘bout how humans are mortal and whatnot. That’s what wikipedia says, anyway.”
Lisa puts a hand over her face. “I think it’s pretty.”
She pauses, and looks over at Peter.
“Partner.”
Lisa laughs as Peter throws a handful of leaves at her, as Mrs. Castle’s car pulls up in front of the house and the sun sets for another day.