That is he,

the tallest one

who takes his shoes off

to walk across the grass.

He told me once about tallness:

it’s an arbitrary thing;

sometimes you are and sometimes you’re not.

I told the others about tallness

and they laughed,

each one round the table.

So I left them

and went and lay on my father’s big bed,

putting my legs in the sunshine,

and softly

hummed songs to myself.