THREE LIVES

by Grant Carrington



We hiked that day the length of Sleeping Giant
Tommy and Patrick and I
from the toe of the Giant to the castle at its head
Tommy stuck to the path that wandered over the hills
while I darted from one side to the other
exploring abandoned shacks, cliffs, and trees
Patrick disappeared into the woods on a straight line for the castle

Tommy and I got to the castle hours before Patrick

tramped up smiling, covered with mud leaves blossoms
and tales of bear deer and brightly-colored birds

Now Tommy has risen steadily through the ranks

while I jump from writer to engineer
to actor to programmer
to singer to technician
and Patrick plays jazz flute and piano
in dark cellar clubs for three or four aficianados
having left behind three wives and half a dozen children
One of whom sleeps with me occasionally
seeking perhaps security and a father
and who yells at me
whenever I leave the proper path
Nonetheless she is her father's child
and sometimes she joins me at midnight
to dance around the mushrooms
to the music of her father's flute

while Tommy sleeps securely at home