I’m from Bridgton, but I haven’t lived there since I was five. We lived right on Main Street, and right behind the house was a river. My brother and I used to throw our toys down into the river and make my mom go get them.
It’s quiet in Bridgton—everyone knows you. It’s a small town. I have family and family friends that still live there. I know all the back streets. My brother once lived on a street there that was really hard to find, but I could find it no problem.
I don’t like Portland—it’s too big a city. I’m more of a country person. I like going to Highland Lake—there’s a dam there where all the fish get trapped, bass, trout, catfish, and I’m a fisherman.
Sit outside in the woods and you’ll see animals after a while. Moose, woodpeckers. When I was younger, I was in a field and a doe came right near me, maybe five feet away.
Wolf is my nickname. I gave it to myself.
I’ve always wanted to have art in my life. I met my grandfather when I was eight, and I started to get into art. He was an artist —he painted pictures of people. Once he looked at my mom and painted her picture and it looked exactly like her. He drew the logo for the Celtics and used to work in Scarborough for a sign store, but he died in 2001.
A couple of years ago, I started drawing crosses and hearts with wings. I used to draw skulls, but then I had a feeling that something bad would happen. I don’t know why I draw crosses and hearts with wings; they just come out of my head that way.
I’d like to go back to Bridgton and meet my dad. He’s got a rude thing coming the day I meet him. When I was a baby, he stole some money my mom had set aside for me and abandoned me. My mom came home and found me alone. He took his friends out and got them drunk. I know where he lives and that he hangs out at Sandy Dog’s or Bridgton’s Best Pizza with his friends.
I like to stop up at an old farm in Bridgton and feed the horses. I used to ride a horse there named Daisy—my mom never told me the horse’s name, I just remember it. If I ever move back up to Bridgton, I could focus on my life and not worry about anyone else’s. I’d track down my father’s side of the family. I’m told I look like them.
Fills my empty street now
Then it was alive
Then it was a whole other world
Where your imagination could take you everywhere
The original child-like games were the Olympics
We owned it
And it was a part of us
From every end of our dead end street
That was anything but dead
That world was the real world
No limits, and no one could stop us
They couldn’t if they tried
But now stuck in this bland moment of so-called reality
All we do is pray for our blissful imagination
To be unlocked again and our street to be reborn