Gorillas
My father's childhood is in a wood-burning kit, something he wasn't ready for. He doesn't know why they let him open it, that Christmas he was 5.

His brother's childhood is in the kitchen, on a counter. That time. The story about the knife. Before he left and they moved out. No one liked Uncle Newton but that comes later, that connection and explaination. The explaination says why it's not about you but (running around the kitchen table) how can you believe that?

It's a about you. And the time before that would explain it, but now that's changed. And they had the same childhood, with different monsters. And they talk of one circle but it has two centers.

For their friend down the street it wasn't a wood-burning kit or a kitchen or a kitchen knife announcing the monster had crawled out from under the bed and yes, there was a gorilla in the living room. For that boy, that little boy who was tough and could fight and his brother had a zip gun, it was his father's shotgun. Or maybe the thing is mundane, ordinary. It was the front porch, the white porch, on the steps, by the door, next to the bushes that grew there then.

It's a gorilla, but it's a gorilla you know. lt's your gorilla. But there's never a good time.