148/365 : don't do it

i don't want to talk about this,
but it's your birthday on facebook
so i click on your picture
you, and your little boy
whose face is square and edgy like yours
and i can't help but remember
that time we took your four-wheeler
out for a ride under the dazzling sky
of howard county country air
me, in my 12-year-old fashion statement:
overalls and shoe-string tank-top
you, in your hick uniform:
blue wranglers, white jockey tee
and me, silent as the night
when you unzipped the copper
pushed me down by the shoulders
and chuckled, adolescent and smug,
you know what to do
now do it

i see your boy, he's four years old
and i can't help but hope that somehow
you've grown out of your adolescence
that somehow he learns to touch shoulders
with a tickle so insatiable
with a love so relatable
that he never has to say,
now do it