Through high school, we dunked him in toilets,

trash cans, when we could catch him,

runt who never grew, as though

death couldn't find him

if he stayed forever small.

We sped by his house, ignoring

the circle of dirt worn into his yard

because his father, the one man in town who knew

how badly a life could end, was afraid

to let him venture any farther.

We passed without seeing

him ride around and around, in perfect arcs

always leading back to the beginning.