Andrew Alexander

Andrew Alexander takes me for a walk

In the forest behind where he once was growing up

Barefooted

Tender to the touch

Tasting poison in the back of my throat

Mixing potions in a plastic yogurt cup

Bringing back my dead dog

Doing a seance

Andrew Alexander’s playing dress up in a closet by the stairs

Sister’s hand me down stuff

He says, “When I grow up I’m a princess, a firetruck”

Sensing a wrongness in one he conceals the thought

Touching himself to his best friend’s favourite song

Andrew Alexander grows small