Itch

You rode that bike
around the parking lot
with an expression usually
found on 5 year old boys,
and I felt my heart swell
with companionable peace
because it’s the little things
that make up the rest and
you’re putting it all together
with such careful abandon
it’s hard not to envy it.

Some people hate us
but some people just
smile and nod with a
wordless appreciation
that just makes me
throw back my head
and giggle because
I’ve got a secret and
they’d never guess it.

I’d rather hold your
hand than not, always,
and I hope that’s always
the case and that yours
will always be there waiting
when mine searches it out.

I still haven’t managed
to find the right words
to say that I see you,
I see it, and the effort
it takes to be you and
the new, too, and I’ll
just stand here patiently
ready to help if needed
and to worry, in any case,
because that’s what I do.

He said, “What have you
learned?” and it stopped
me short because he said
I was different and the relief
that someone had noticed
hadn’t yet washed away.

“Sometimes people change,
I think,” I said. “But sometimes
they don’t. So I guess I’ve learned
not to dismiss them out of hand
but to keep them at arm’s length.”

You win some, you lose some,
and sometimes it’s a draw.
My hand’s on the trigger.
~5/2/13

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