I worry about Sam. Kid I met over the summer at the ballpark, a kid I used to give a lot of shit to, a kid I used to say stuff to like 'Do as I say, not as I do'--the Arnold movie line that came over the PA during every game that I'd mimic as I passed him--a kid who told me he was in high school when I asked him how old he was and the kid who told me he was going into the Marine Corp. This was June. I gave him my email and told him to give me a note, send a joke, let me know how things are going once he got settled somewhere. I shook his hand on his last day, wished him well.
I haven't heard from Sam. He's probably doing fine, down in Pendleton, some boot camp hell, learning how to defend our country. He's probably doing fine. I don't know why I just thought about Sam. Maybe somehow, he'll know someone is thinking about him. Nice kid, buzz cut hair, I used to rub my knuckles in his scalp, maybe once a week, male bonding stuff.
I worry about Sam. Sam, are you out there somewhere? Midnight watch on some outpost?
Where are you, man?