I Remember
I remember.
I remember the lights.
Red,
Rotating,
Shining through the lowered window shade
At night.
No siren.
I heard
Through the wall
My top bunk
His queen-sized headboard
Separated only by the wall.
I remember his breathing,
A repetitive pain,
In sync
With the rhythm
Of his heartbeat.
His breathing shallow.
I remember his sound
An enduring-through-suffering expression.
No complaint.
No “why me?”
No words.