Lilfeckingoblin - I Have No Idea

an open letter to the boy i sat next to in junior high art class

youre missing a tooth, closer to the side of your mouth than the front. said you lost it playing hockey.

it was a first semester assignment. i did something red and blue with color pencils. you wrote in big letters with the soft drawing pencils, deep blue with the hardness embossed in gold like real artists used, probably. you pressed down hard enough that it carved dents into the paper.

you tried to erase it. the lines didnt even smear.

i dont remember much about you (or much of those years, for the matter). not your name, the position you played, what you drew in art. you sat on my right. your face was round with boyhood, pink in the cheeks. i remember your voice. i dont remember anything you said.

i only saw you in passing the years after.

when i still had hopes in my higher education, the nearest universitys mens ice hockey team didnt show up for the open house. their table was empty, sandwiched between other athletics. they had biking, helmet mounted like a skull.

you probably went far. the kids in sports always go far.

i watch prospects drop their gloves in grainy video. when you throw enough punches, the bones in your fist mold to the shape of it. theyre just kids.

the track team runs in the summer. its a locked car hot out there. the girl that sat in front of me complained that she was tired. she didnt ask me for advice i dont follow. just kids.

the newest draft class was born in 2006. the newest class of our junior high was born in 2014. kids.

how did you lose your tooth?

i looked up your name on the wikipedia page your draft year. it returned no matches.

i hope you made it.

i hope you didnt.

Nuzzling my face between their legs curiously and burying my face in their crotch while my tail wags

max domi, proud older brother

jeff skinner should be the scariest mfer in the nhl. 1000+ games played, never been to the playoffs. saint of unfulfilled dreams, god of lost chances, ghost of glories never felt. he's the subject of a greek tragedy. he should be passed down in fables about the futility of man. complaining about early playoff exists should invoke his wrath like the living embodiment of hubris passing judgement upon thee. he's a hockey eldritch horror straight out of your nightmares. his name should be spoke with the reverence of a martyr.

HUG! YOUR! TINY! CAPTAIN! BOSTON BRUINS ROUND 1 GAME 7

mtk taking a guy down again. consensus?

panthers @ rangers 240524 | ecf game 2