At the swan pond
we have throwing bread competition.
I throw most far,
my swan swim
fastest.
I am winner.
‘All right, Nicu, calm down,’ Jess say.
‘I win prize?’ I say.
Jess dig deep into her bag.
‘Here,’ she say, holding big green apple.
‘Not exactly a gold medal, but it is a Golden Delicious.’
‘We share it,’ I say.
Jess toss apple high. ‘It’s all yours.’
I catch one-hand. ‘No, we share.’
‘It’s all right, really.’
‘I insisting,’ I say.
I do my own deep dig,
take out my
Swiss Army,
flick open
knife section.
‘Jesus, Nicu,’ Jess say.
‘What? Swiss Army for surviving in wilderness
not for being town hooligan.’
‘Right.’
I chuck Jess piece.
She catch one-hand.
When apple hitting our mouths
we look each other,
we nod each other,
we agreeing.
It true golden moment.
But gold moment like these
always
have black shadow in ceiling,
always
have thick fog in feeling,
always
have wedding and X day in my head.
And I can’t to enjoying our
apple time.