All language subtitles for Poison (1991)

Police! Open up!

Police, ma'am! Hello?

Open up! Come on!
Come on. Open up.

Hello?

Miss Olsen,
are you there?

We will have to make
a forced entry...

if you refuse
or are unable to open up!

Nancy Olsen!

Open up! Come on!

...the door down the hall.

Oh, my God!

How awful!

Look!

He went out there!
Get him!

On June 3, 1985...

at approximately 5:58 a.m.,

Richard Beacon,
a seven-year-old
Long Island boy,

shot and killed his father
in a heated family argument.

Felicia Beacon,
the boy's mother,
astonishingly claims...

she then saw her son
take off in flight
from the patio balcony.

What really happened
the night of June 3?

Who was Richie Beacon,
and where is he now?

In '44,

I was sent to Fontenal Prison
on several counts of theft.

Name?

Broom.

First?
John.

Age?

Thirty-one.

Date of birth?

October 29, 1913.

Orphan?
Yes.

Where?

First--

Prison was not new to me.
I'd lived in them all my life.

...various foster homes.

In submitting
to prison life, embracing it,

I could reject the world
that had rejected me.

...the sexual behavior,
which includes--

Hold him!
males--

Is that correct?
What?

I will bash
your fucking skull in!

The state
obliges us to, uh,

inquire as to whether or not
you engaged in the...

practice of--

that you practiced, uh--

Yeah.

Whatever.

That word there,
is it written as two words?

We're gathered here today...

in the shadow cast by
the penal preserve of Baton...

by the trusty
and loyal inmates,

Harold van Roven
and John Broom,

who hereby pledge
to one another...

in the eyes
of their comrades
and fellows in misery...

their loyalty and faith
to one another's
body and soul.

The ring
upon each man's finger...

will prove
to them and those
in their company...

that each is
betrothed to the other
for life and to love...

till death do come.

Place the rings
on each finger.

Pledge to truth
and faith...

above and beyond God,
the oppressor.

Ever since he was a child,

Thomas Graves
had been hungry for knowledge.

Hungry to discover
all the secrets of the universe.

Science--

man's sacred quest for truth--

was his first and only love.

Years of hard work
and research...

led him to the mysteries
of the sex drive...

and its potential
for the betterment of mankind.

At the age of 32,

Dr. Thomas Graves
was called upon...

to present his theories
to experts in his field.

And thus,
as I have demonstrated,

I have determined
that once extracted...

the application
of the hormonal equivalent...

of the sexual instinct
to practical neurology...

will not only provoke
a dramatic reassessment
of geriatric research...

but will end paralysis
as we know it today.

Thank you.

Why, this is ridiculous!

I ask you,
are we to take
this charade seriously?

I demand that this man
be reexamined...

by the panel on grounds
of medical incompetence!

I agree.

That's it.

It's putrefacted
condensation sustained,

allowing
molecular coagulation
by producing--

biomagnetic gas.

I did it. I did it.

Dr. Graves?
Yes. I'm Dr. Graves.

And I've just captured
the sex drive.

That's marvelous.

It means the molecular
coagulation theory
holds true.

Molecular coag--

How do you know that?
Who are you?

- I'm Dr. Olsen.
- Who?

Dr. Olsen. Nancy Olsen?

From Boston?

Dr. Strick recommended me
to you regarding--

You're--

I-- I didn't expect
a woman.

I didn't expect you to.

I've been following your work
for years, Doctor.

Ever since Evaluations
of Molecular Sustention
of Hormonal Conductivity...

appeared
in the science journal at MIT.

Your discovery
of the white cellular clotting
predominance in neurasthenia...

completely altered
my understanding of...

conditional bioflavonoid
neuropathology.

I wrote my doctoral thesis
on your molecular
coagulation theory,

and I'm now
a hormonal specialist.

I've come here with the hopes
of assisting you.

Well, how do you do?

Very well, Doctor.
Thank you.

And now I really
should leave you
to record your success.

But, please,
feel free to call on me
anytime that you need.

And congratulations, Doctor.

You're making medical history.

...molecular coagulation--

...conditional
bioflavonoid neuropathology.

...Evaluations
of Molecular Sustention
of Hormonal Conductivity...

appeared in
the science journal at MIT.

Putrefacted
condensation sustained--

You're making medical history.

The quiet residential community
of Glenville...

was stunned to learn
of the strange death
of Fred Beacon.

It gave everybody the creeps.

All the neighbors
were afraid to come
out their door.

It was absolutely...

the most
dreadful thing I
have experienced...

in my entire lifetime.
It was awful.

Oh, it was terrible.

You know,
I heard every shot.

You never know
who your friends are.
I heard every single shot.

You think you know people,
but you really
don't know them...

and you live
next door to them.

You don't, till something
like this happens.

Richie Beacon's
disappearance provoked...

one of the toughest
missing person investigations
in Long Island history.

Whole thing lasted
at least a year.

His face is still
on milk cartons.

What was found?

Nothing.

Felicia Beacon became the center
of Glenville controversy...

following
her extraordinary account
of her son's disappearance.

I guess I just didn't--

I definitely
didn't know what he was.

I mean, I punished him.

His father hit him,
just like any kid.

But I definitely
didn't realize--

Realize what?

That he was
a gift from God.

By the time
I was 16 years old,

I was notorious as a kid
with a terrific knack for theft.

Foster homes
would no longer take me,

and I was sent to
the Boys' Reformatory of Baton.

There, in the counterfeit world
of men among men--

- Down!
- Three!

I found my true family.
Four!

Halt!

Step to the left!
At Baton, I was astounded
by the discovery--

Step to the right!
that each male
had a male of his own.

Step to the right!
And that the world
of force and manly beauty...

loved in that way
within itself...

from link to link.

- Down!
- Five!

It was from then on,
when they merged in shadow,

that each group
offered me a puzzle.

The stiff, silent males
possessed the violence of love.

And my life's study...

would be to find it.

Sixteen years had passed...

when the maximum security prison
of Fontenal...

brought me face-to-face
with my deliverance.

Jack Bolton. Age 28.

175 pounds.

Seventy-five inches.

Formerly a captive of Baton.

Oh, poor kid!

Somebody up there knows.
Come on, pussy!

You know what?
You make me want to puke!

You want to suck it, bitch?
When was the last time
you saw rock?

You want to suck it!
You want to crawl for it!

Yes, you do!

Is it Jack Bolton?

You hear that? Pussy!

Canon!

Here?

Since today.

Coyle, Jack Bolton.

Hey, John.
A friend of mine, man.

You make me want to puke!
Jack Bolton, Johnny Broom.

Baton?
Yeah. Yeah.

I knew it.

You swallow it
by the mouthful,
don't you, Birdy?

Jism by the jug,
right?

You want it real bad,
don't you, punk?

Don't you, slug?
Don't you, pretty boy?

Hey, you! Shine!

Annoying Mr. Rass?

Not me, chief.

That's a good boy.

That's a smart
little fag.

Think fast, faggot!

You want it real bad,
don't you?
Don't you?

You want me
to shoot it up your hole.
Is that it, huh?

Go on. Marry him.
You know you love him.

What?
Me marry him?

How's the wife shaking?
Keeping you out of trouble?

You gotta be kiddin'.

Lookin' like a dream.
A bad dream.

What do you say,
angel-puss?

Richie was a complicated boy.

On the one hand,
very intelligent,

but at the same time,

uh, withdrawn.

What's really strange,
though, was, uh,

the amount of animosity
he would induce...

in the other children--
out of nowhere.

Like this one kid,
Brad. Yeah.

He started
hitting him--
Yeah.

'Cause he didn't believe
that he was really a prince
and his dad was a king.

The weird thing
was that Richie
didn't fight back.

He just sat there until--
He just sat there
until the teacher came.

And he was
all bloody.

He was a perfect child.

A perfect baby.

Very independent.

Very smart.

Never fussed.

He always kept himself busy
with stories and coloring.

He was always doing
these private things.

Private games.

All right, keep it moving.
There's no rec for today.

All inmates proceed
directly to shop.

All inmates proceed
directly to shop.
No rec today.

Move it along.

A trip to the brig, Gecko?
Is that what you want?
Move it along!

Would you fuckin' pigs
shut up?

Thanks a lot, man.
Forget it.

Guy from Baton.

It's loyalty.

Man, to a shithole.
Maybe.

Better than this one.

No way, man.

The guys are--
They're straight
with you here, you know?

You know what's what.

Don't be too sure.

Hey, uh,
you got any rolls?

Thanks a lot, man.

Look, forget it, okay?

Baton.

Okay.

I'll see you later.

Bolton's reemergence
in my life...

contradicted any memory
I had of him as a child.

At Baton,
he was sullen and small.

Even I picked on him.

Stay out of my way,
Bolton.

You hear me?

**

Something about my memory
of Bolton disturbed me.

But I couldn't put my finger
on what it was.

All night long
I built an imaginary life...

of which he was the center.

And I always gave that life--

which was begun over and over
and transformed a dozen times--

a violent end.

Hello.

Hello. Dr. Graves?

This is Dr. Olsen.
Nancy Olsen?

I've been
trying to reach you
for quite some time now.

Are you--

Is everything all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

Good. I'm relieved
to hear that.

I didn't know
what happened.

I thought
maybe you had decided
against the internship,

that perhaps I had
interrupted you
at such a critical moment that--

It's just that after
your terrific success,

I wanted to be the first
to congratulate you.

Hello?

Hello. Dr. Graves?

Hello!

Hello?

Dr. Graves?

Dr. Graves, this is Dr. Olsen.

Dr. Graves,
I know you're in there.

Dr. Graves.

What happened
to your face?

Do I... look lascivious?

Like the pitiful,
decrepit result...

of some
hideous indulgence?

Well,

take a good look,
Miss Dr. Olsen.

Because that's exactly...

what I am.

- Dr. Graves--
- Please, call me Tom.

Tom.

What happened?

I...
accidentally ingested--

The serum?
Yes.

Oh, God! All of it?

What are you going to do?

There's nothing
I can do.

You know as well as I
the hormonal system
is self-perpetuating.

The biomagnetic field
is irreversible.

I'm a monster.

No, you're not.

Then look at me.

Now...

kiss me.

Sorry. That was
uncalled for.

No.

I have
the greatest respect
for you, Doctor.

And of all the people
this could happen to...

why it had to be you,
I just don't know.

The fact is...

it doesn't disgust me
in the slightest.

On the contrary.

It breaks my heart.

Don't.

He was a meek soul.

People pick on meek souls.

It's something
in human nature--

something very sad
about human nature.

We have to pick on those
that are weaker than us.

And that's exactly what started
happening at Park Street.

During the two and half years...

that Richie attended
Park Street Elementary School,

he allegedly made 47 visits
to the nurse's office.

His mother was called
as many as 25 times,

and Richie met
with the principal at least 10.

Twelve classmates
were suspended,
and three expelled.

He was a little kid,

and I remember having
to pull him out of a few
fights in the cafeteria...

and even in the playground.

For a little kid,
he was noticeable.

Well, some people
felt sorry for him,

but most of them
wanted to hit him and stuff.

It was weird,

'cause he's just a person
that you want to see
get creamed.

Once I was right in the middle
of giving him an injection...

and he called me "fatso."

You know, I mean, I could have
hurt him or something. I--

I just--
I--I think he was evil.

If it wasn't a bloody nose,
it was a sprained ankle.

If it wasn't-- I don't know--

skinned knees, it was somebody
put something in his milk.

Um--

Once, unfortunately,
I discovered him
and a slightly older boy,

Gregory Lazar,
in the equipment room.

And, uh,

Gregory had the poor kid
over his knee...

and was apparently, uh,
really giving it to him.

Everything the principal said
about it was completely a lie.

I didn't attack
Richie Beacon at all.

He just...

kept bugging me,
kept bothering me every second.

He-- He-- He made me.

I got this when I was a kid.

This guard was always just
calling me "pretty boy," right?

"Pretty boy."

Until I caught him.

This is a tough one though.
Look at this.

I mean, that looks tough, right?

Yeah.

You're a kid, you get
something like that, you think
you're gonna die, you know?

This one--

I was crashing in church.

You know, you should
never crash in churches.

It's just bad luck.

I told Nick.

This one over here--

You can't really see it.

But it's--

it's right there.

It's the pink, see?

I got it in-- in LaSalle.

Nah, in Leden, I think.

Anyway--

There's nothing wrong
with being out
in the world, Tom.

I don't know why you're
so nervous about it.

People come down
with all sorts
of conditions.

This is just
one of them.

Hello.

Just ignore them.

* Reach up to me

**

Don't!

Why?

I can't.

Well,
I can't do this.

Not now.

But, Tom--

I'm in love with you.

Look at me, Nancy.

Think about
what you're saying
and look at me!

Tom!

Tom! Tom!

Well, Richie
was extremely gifted.

Imaginative.

Always telling
these elaborate stories.

He was a chronic liar...

and, uh, would often engage
the other classmates...

in these stories of his.

And they'd get very angry.

He liked controlling people...

and watching them boil over.

I was back one day
in the garden--

I think it was a Sunday.

And all of a sudden I saw
something coming running...

from the Beacons'
house over here.

And I thought
it was a deer at first--
a little deer.

But then, as it came towards me,

I saw it was a little boy,
about five or six.

And he was naked.

And he came running closer,

and he was exhibiting himself
right in front of me.

As he got closer to me,
he squatted down...

and--

and he made a B.M.
right in front of me.

He turned ar--
He got up.
He turned around...

and he ran away
just like a wild animal.

I didn't know what he'd do,
so I just...

came into the house
and closed my door.

I just was so shocked.

Shh.

Pus-sy.

Like a lookee!

Like a, like a lookee!

Like a, like a lookee!

Like a, like a lookee!

Like a,
like a lookee.

Like a,
like a lookee.

Like a, like a lookee.

Pus-sy.

Every time I do a job...

I get stiff.

Every single time.

'Cause you were
doing them with, uh--
What's his name?

Nick.

That goof of yours.

What?

I do my jobs solo, man.
You can't do them
with somebody else.

That's not
what I heard.

- Well, what you hear?
- Hey! Hey, Diego!

Nothing.
What?

Bitch!
Got a present for you.

Nothing.

What?

Just that you and Nick
were partners
or something.

Who said that?
Don't remember.

Who?

Look, I don't remember.

What do you think
you're looking at?

You fucking queer.

Fucking scum.

You think Nick gives a shit
what people think?

You know
what Nick would do?

Man, he's busted
into a joint.

He'd fucking piss
all over it.

But first he'd do it up,
you know. He'd--

He'd drink or eat...

and take a bath.

Screw.

I'm telling you,
that guy--

One time, we were in
this bankers' joint, right?
In Orleans.

- We?
- What?

Listen, don't you fucking
start with me, man.

I mean that.
Hey.

I mean that.
Don't you start with me.
Bolton.

So what?
So we did shit together.
We got busted.

Big fucking deal!

And who the fuck
are you anyway?

You know, you walk around--
You try to act like a big shot.

Who are you kidding?

You are the biggest
fucking fruit in this joint.

Hey!

It was only a matter of time...

before Bolton would
be accepted by the big shots.

Go ahead.

And nothing threatened
our friendship more.

I could tell Rass,
the group's kingpin,

had an eye for him
from day one.

I still could
not take lightly...

the idea that people
made love without me.

...all over his forehead
and coming down like a--

...all pussy
on his cheek like a--

Hey. Hey, lady.

My goodness.
And in such a hurry.

La-di-dah.

Yeah.

Sugar.

Tom.

Vodka, tonic.

Tom.

How'd you find me?

Never mind.

Tom, come home.

- We belong together.
- How can you say that?

I know what I'm saying.

I don't belong
with anyone!

You're wrong.

The search is still on
for the leper murderer
of Priscilla Monroe...

and possibly four other
unidentified leper victims.

Already, the venomous cancer
has spread to hundreds...

of innocent men,
women and children,

and counts of sexual violence
are also on the rise.

Be on the lookout
for a dark-haired man...

with intense eyes
and a badly infected mouth.

You don't know anything
about that, do you, Tom?

Tom?

Do you?

It's you, isn't it?

Remain calm--

- You're the leper they've
all been talking about.
- Shh!

Why didn't you tell me
you were contagious?

When were you going
to tell me this?

I was--

I was scared that I would
frighten you away.

You're all
I have left, Nancy.

What makes you so certain
that I'm safe with you?

Nancy.

I love you.

Tom.

I have to think.

Tom, I need
some time alone to think.

Nancy--
I'm sorry.

I'll call you.

Please.

Nancy.

Nancy.

In mid-November of 1984,

Richie Beacon was treated
at Cloyfield Medical Center...

for injuries to the thighs
and lower back.

His parents claimed
he'd been hurt
by the other kids at school,

but, well, frankly,
I doubted it.

Why?

I felt they were being
purposefully vague with me.

There were other
strange circumstances
surrounding the case.

Um--

I found
an infectious discharge.

Uh, it was
genitally secreted.

Um, sharp yellow color.

What did
you guys used to do?

Just stupid junk.

Like what?

He'd go, like,
"You're the dad,
and you're really mad,

and I'm,
you know, the son.

I just did this thing
or something."

It was just
some stupid game.

What kind of game?
He just totally
forced me to do it.

I mean, it's like he got
into trouble or something.

Well-- Well--

If I didn't do it,
he'd just, like,
sit there and laugh,

and I'd get so mad
I'd just finally
do what he said--

totally spank him--
just to make him shut up.

It's very odd,

but...

Mrs. Beacon's account
of Richie's disappearance--

you know, him killing
his father and flying away--

came directly
from one of his stories.

Nancy?

Stop it!
Piece of trash!
Hear me, you slut?

Let go of me!

Slut! Slut!

You're hurting me!
You are a pig!

What did you
just call me, huh?

Nancy?
What did you just call me,
you little tramp?

Just go,
you rotten filth.

Good for nothing!

What did you
just call me, huh?

Nancy.

Nancy!

Nancy!

Nancy!

Nancy.

Oh, God. No.

Tom.

Atmospheric toxins...

changed
the magnetic field.

That's what
caused it to spread.

Don't blame yourself.

Nancy.

I love you, Nancy.

Now it begins.

Hello, ma'am.

Miss Olsen?

Better open it up in here.

Open up! Come on!
Come on. Open up.

So, um--

Hey.

Shit. I gotta go.

Go ahead.

You want a drag, pal?

You're a slut, you know that?
Anyone ever tell you that? Huh?

And your little man,
he can ride my fucking prick.

What the fuck
are you talking about?

Hey, smile.
Take your cap off.

Look, John,
get lost, would you?

Got my hands
in my pockets.

If they see us together,
they're gonna start
bullshitting about me.

Why?
I don't know.
Just get lost.

Why?

They think
you're a--

Look, I tried to tell 'em
that you're okay.

Come on.
Let go, man!

You're my man.

Bolton's friendship
with Rass and the others...

filled me with jealousy
but instigated a transformation.

I felt myself growing
mean, icy, stiff,

gleaming like a sword blade.

Hey, you! Stop there!
Come on. Let's go around.

Halt! I said halt!

- We'll get you!
- Get outta here!

Get outta here!

Well, I don't know what kind
of shouting they heard,

but, yes, we were fighting.

Fred was under a lot of stress,
and I was busy.

Richie kept getting hurt.

It was a bad period of time
in general.

Did your arguments
have mostly to do with Richie?

No. Not at all.

Fred was angry at me.

He thought
that I wasn't spending
enough time with Richie,

and he had to know
where I was every second.

A neighbor claimed
she saw him ripping up
your flower beds one night.

He was just angry.

He'd fired our gardener,
this Spanish kid, Jose,

and... he was just
very angry at me,

so he tore up my flowers.

I know that I was wrong.

But my child
was watching over me.

My child was an angel
of judgment,

and I sinned against the Lord.

We are at 69 Gold Street,

the residence
of Dr. Thomas Graves,
the notorious leper murderer...

who has been the cause
of countless deaths
in the Centerville area alone.

Local authorities have
the premises surrounded...

and police are
presently escorting all other
tenants out of the building...

which is considered
highly contaminated.

To think I've been
living next door to him
for three years,

not so much as suspecting
what he did.

I knew something
was odd about him.

I'll never
forget the first time
I laid eyes on him.

Get your Dr. Graves mask
right here.

Authentic mask
of the leper murderer.

I have no doubt that we'll
be able to seize this menace
to the community...

and stop the spread of this
despicable contagion.

About a week
before the 3rd,

Richie had sprained
his wrist at school.

He twisted it,
and this teacher that lives
near here drove him home.

It was about 1:15
or something.

I had no idea
that he would be coming home
when he did.

So he walked in on me
with this kid--

Jose, the gardener.

Hey, Broom, what's up?

What's wrong with you?

All right,
Dr. Thomas Graves,

this is Deputy Hansen
of Centerville County.

I'm required by law
to tell you...

that you are under arrest.
Get your
Dr. Graves masks here!

This time we have you
completely surrounded,

and there is
no chance of escape.

I repeat: The apartment
is surrounded,

and you are ordered
to make yourself visible.

Dr. Thomas Graves,
you are under arrest.

Come to the window.

The apartment is surrounded.

Why?
Make yourself visible.

Why?

Dr. Thomas Graves,
come to the window
and show yourself.

All I could remember thinking
was, "Oh, God. It's Richie."

But when I saw his face,
it reminded me
of this time years before...

when Fred
was spanking Richie...

and I was watching.

And I swear...

he looked at me with
the exact same expression.

It was like some... oath...

in some other language.

His face was so weird.

It made me feel ashamed.

Oh, my God.

Still, I did you.

You just
don't think.

It's the same. I shot.

And I'll do it
whenever I want.

Oh, God!

Don't worry.

- Come on.
- Let's get that open.

Don't worry.

Open your mug.

Open your mug!

Shorty, play Jacobs.
Yeah.

You're dead.
We're gonna fuck you up.

Open it up,
cocksucker.

I said open
your fuckin' mug.
Open your fuckin' mug.

Yeah.

- Cocksucker.
- All the way.

Open it up.

Lookee, lookee.

Chanchi. Chanchi.

You keep
that mouth open, bitch.

All right, Shorty.

Yeah!

Go get him. Go on.

Open.
Wider.

Keep your fuckin'
mug open.

Yeah!

Science tells us
there is always a reason why...

a star forms
or a body is ill.

And religion does the same.

This is the story
of one man's quest
into darkness.

True or false?

Both.

There he is.

I'll tell you something.

Oh, my God!

Don't jump!

We'll talk. Wait.

Let's talk.

You think I'm scum.

You think I'm dirt,
don't you?

Don't you?

Well--

I'll tell you
something.

Every one of you down there
is exactly the same.

Only you'll
never know it.

You'll--
You'll never know it...

'cause you'll never know
what pride is!

'Cause pride
is the only thing...

that lets you
stand up to misery.

And not this kind
of misery...

but the kind of misery
the whole stinking world
is made of!

Nothing, Doctor.

He's gone.
He's gone.

Doctor?

I can hear the angels...

farting on the ceiling.

We'll head him off
at the north wall!

Load up and go stand
at the north wall!

It's the North Tower.

Bolton!
He just told us to shoot!

Fire on escapee.
Fire!

Bolton!

Three days later,

Rass took Bolton with him
on an attempted escape
from Fontenal.

Rass made it
as far as Orleans.

Bolton was shot
by a prison guard.

After Fred
heard about everything--
Leave me alone! Will you stop?

he bought this gun.
I told you!

I told you!

And he came home one day
and he just started going
totally crazy with it.

You tell me who else knows.
Richie.
Richie, go away.

Just go in your room.
No! Leave it.

Go on.
Get outta here. Just go--

Don't hit him.
You shut the fuck up!

You know, he's swinging it
all over the place
and he's showing it to Richie.

So when he fell asleep
on the couch later,

I put the gun away
in the drawer.

But sometime
in the middle of the night,

he got up
and he just started in again.

He was smacking me around
and screaming his head off,

and, of course,
it woke up Richie.

I wanna know!
But Fred was like
some crazy man.

He just kept coming at me
and coming at me,

and he just throws
the lamp at me,

which knocked me down.

How many times did you
fuck him in my bed?

Fuck him in my bed, huh? Huh?
Listen! Listen!

Bring some fucking spic
in my bed? Huh?

Tell me! Tell me.

How many people know?
What do you
want from me?

I just wanna know
the goddamn truth!

I just remember him
coming at me
around the throat...

and me trying
to hold his arms down,
but he was like steel,

and I just thought,
"This is it."

And then, all of a sudden,

I hear this explosion.

It was like a bomb.

And then another.

And then Fred
just collapses on top of me.

I look up, and Richie's
standing there with the gun.

I think he looked at me...

and then sort of
took off toward the window.

I was pulling Fred off of me...

when I saw him
standing on the ledge.

And I screamed.
I thought he was gonna jump.

And then,
all of a sudden, he did.

He just jumped off the ledge
and went up...

like a wind or something
had come and taken him
'cause he was so light,

but it wasn't the wind.

He just took off.

It was so weird.

When I ran
and watched him go up,

he just flew up.

And I called to him,

and he sort of tilted my way...

before he kind
of rolled out of sight.

My little boy.