Boarding with Mr. Paeters

Arrive at the meeting place.
Mr. Paeters is already practicing.
We are excited for the journey.

I hop on the board.
It begins to roll,
like the panther stalking the prey.

I learn to carve.
The wheels slice the pavement
like knives.

Mr. Paeters teaches me some tricks.
They are difficult,
but I achieve them with practice.

We go inside the Paeters home.
Tiny people in a tiny box
teach us more tricks.

We pack for the trek.
Apples, rolls, water.

A note alerts the rest of the Paeters family
to our absence.
We set off.

Exploring undiscovered mountains.
skating over glass floors.
Walking across the Sahara desert.

We reach the central.
A combination of walking and riding
moves us slowly towards our destination.

Giant metal beasts race past us.
They are all hunting,
or perhaps running from danger.

Several tractors nearly decapitate us.
They take up both lanes of the road.
Mr. Paeters and I briefly enjoy the open riding space.

The jam is resolved
and we are forced to walk again.

Suddenly, we find ourselves in the back of a police car.
We cannot open the doors.
Our hands sit in grooves behind our back,
but we are not handcuffed.

The friendly officer helps us to reach our destination.
Mr. Paeters and I bid her farewell,
and continue our adventure.

Skate through the park,
and down the hills.
grass, cement, asphalt.

Take a break
for water and an apple.

We find a smooth road.
Racing down the hill,
we carve like no other.

Finally, we are exhausted
and call for our ride.
Mr. Paeters, Sr., comes to retrieve us.

At the Paeters household,
we greet our friend, Mr. Sandels,
with some lovely messages and voicemails.

Downstairs, there is paint in the bathtub.
We scrub it off
into the drain.

Seated around the dinner table,
we enjoy the delicious meal.
There are three choices.

We discuss the pronunciation of Paeters.
It is French.

Our friend, Mr. Sandels, arrives.
The three of us head downstairs
and send more messages.

Outside we go,
to get some tattoos.
I am severely disappointed.

We travel to the home of Mr. Waffles.
We chat, and sprint away quickly,
without Mr. Waffles.

We ride in the driveway for a short while more.
and then my father arrives,
and I must depart.