Going Back by Paul Hostovsky

It’s not that I want to be young again-- 

God no. I wouldn’t wish that on my worsted 

sweatered-old-man-in-sensible-shoes 

self. I mean, we barely made it out alive 

the first time around. But I’d like to talk to him--

that lonely, bored, back-row kid 

I was back then. Because I think he would have

liked me. I mean, I think he would have liked 

the way he turned out. And I know he would have liked

to ask me a million questions. Many of which 

I know the answers to. I picture us sitting 

on a bench in Taylor Park, one of his PF Fliers 

jackhammering nervously next to my sensible shoes.

He looks away. Doesn’t speak. I ask him if 

there’s anything he’d like to know. He looks up at me--

from this angle he can see all my ugly nose hairs, thick

as grave-grass. I no longer even bother 

to trim them. “How old are you?” he asks me 

and I tell him: 62. “Do you have any kids?” Yes. Two.

“Where are they now?” One is in New York City and

one is in Hawaii. “Do you miss them?” 

Yes. Very much. But I miss you even more, 

if that’s possible. “Am I going to beat Marc Peo

in the wrestling tournament?” Now it’s my turn

to look away. “That’s OK,” he says, “you don’t 

have to say it. I understand.” And he puts his little hand on my

shoulder. “What about Cheryl Lubecki?” What about her?

“Well, do you think she likes me?” I think your strategy of

pretending not to be interested in her isn’t working. “OK,

thanks for telling me.” And he looks away again. A long

silence. The trees in the park, which are much older than both

of us, seem to chortle in the breeze. Is there anything else

you’d like to know? He takes a minute to think. Then asks,

“Are you happy?” Oh yes, in fact (and I start to choke up a

little) being here now with you, I am happier than I have ever

been in my life. 

---

from Mostly, FutureCycle Press, 2021.

Paul Hostovsky's poems and essays appear widely online and in print. He has won a Pushcart Prize, two Best of the Net Awards, and has been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and The Writer's Almanac. He makes his living in Boston as a sign language interpreter.