sometimes y

when i first met him, he only spoke
in vowels. seriously, only vowels.
that's a, e, i, o, u, and sometimes y.
he entered my office carried by his mother
clinging with tiny arms and hands
to her neck in a death vice grip.
scared about the first day of school,
scared about what the other kids might think,
scared that he wouldn't be able to keep up
with the academic rigor that is kindergarten.

"this is mr. johnson," mom said.
he stared at me from below a buzz cut
with beady blue eyes.
"he's going to be your principal."

his eyes dart to the left, to the right,
back at me, and back to mom.
"it's nice to meet you," i offered
and he smiled quick and
buried his face in a sea of hair.
"i think you'll like it here," i said.

he pulled his head back and spoke
with earnestness in his voice.
"a e o, a e o u e e e?"

i had no idea what he said,
but i was mesmerized by this kid.

mom asked him to repeat.
"a e o, a e o u e e e?"
she smiled the smile that only
a mother can give her son.

"yes, sweetie, after school,
we can go to Burger King."

this was all the encouragement he needed
to make it through the day.
and it was all i needed to witness to know
that this was going to be
an incredibly rewarding year.

because when you only speak in vowels,
the love of a mother can propel you to
greatness.

at the meeting

The room was uncomfortably quiet
like where you could hear a pen drop
like a splash of water on the ground
sounds like a time bomb
like a mouse scurrying through the room
sounds like an elephant on crack
like when you have to cough
but you don'twant to disrupt the solemnity
so you suppress it and end up making
strange grunting noises
hand over mouth
cold sweat and muffled kleenex.
and there are suits and ties
and power ponytails and black heels
and note taking with pens advertising drugs
that keep us awake and
put us to sleep.
cups half full with cold coffee
and water bottles unscrewed,
swigged, and screwed again
and the speaker with the voice that can't quite
escape from his throat so it whines its way
through the pipe and past the tongue only to
fall flat before it even makes an impact.
but he likes to thrust his fingers up to make
quotes in the air and ends
phrases using
with it
with this and
with that.
but we're all in this together
the crack elephants
the suitsthe ponytails
the silence
and it's almost over.

how to extract a third grader

i'm sitting in the office doing whatever it is
i do in there
drink coffee
read email
school improvement
evaluations
communication
and i get the call from the third grade room
she says
cole will not do his work
and he's bothering other students
he needs to leave
and what i want to say is
no he doesn't need to leave
you need to teach
you need to do your job
you need to quit passing the monkey
but i don't
cuz it won't do any good
the truth is
the bad teachers stay bad
and you know who they are
you've had them before
it's about toleration for a year's worth
of incidental learning
so i get up from my chair
and walk down the hallway
when i enter he is about the room
spouting off multiplication facts to no one
in particular and he sees me out of the corner
of his eye so he goes to his desk and sits down
to wait
and i walk up and whisper real soft for awhile
to calm him down
he growls through most of it
sucks his cheeks in pushing his lips out
told me once he pretends he has big shark teeth
when he does that
tries to look scary
i lay down my card
say i need you to go to the office
he puts on his poker face
no i don't i'm staying right here
so i point at the card again
repeat myself
he says didn't you hear me i'm not going
i say yes i heard you
but what i wanna know is
are you gonna take these math papers with you
and do you need me to carry them
no response, just sits and stares
i continue
are you gonna take your pencil with you
or do you wanna borrow one from my office
he looks up at me
made contact
and when we get there, do you think you want to
sit in the blue chair or on the bench outside the door
and in one swift motion
he tilts his head back and slams it mightily
on the desk before him
wham
before saying
you just never give up, do you
and two minutes later
he's happily doing his math
in my office
while i'm back to emails
and coffee
and i love my job way too
damn much

eyes

it's the way you look at me
making me forget there is anyone else
it's the way you look at me
feeling like i'm someone you just might
it's the way you look at me
that puts me in a rush
to push aside all i believe
and think i know about the way things
should be
to pull in all i believe
and think i know about the way things
could be
the way you look at me
shifts my world

birds

so i'm sitting in this outdoor coffee shop
partitions and plastic blocking the chill
feet to the flames
coffee cup empty but stomach full
the ambience is lights and fake bushes
and real trees held together with
rubber bands to force a vertical adulthood
some paintings of lesser known artists
and green pillars everywhere.
two birds are here
plump and happy
hopping around bricks hoping to find
some taste of cinnamon roll or bagel
and i'm lucky enough to be in their company until
two women enter with perfume strong enough
to knock down the third little pig's house.
they notice the birds right away and begin
complaining and whining and carrying on
about how they can't enjoy their coffee
with real live animals in their midst
so they jump from their chairs and get
the establishment and now four people
are trying to chase the birds outside the walls
into the open air, for they are wild
and they don't belong in here.
i will not help them
i will sit here and scratch my head instead
at the absurdity of it all.

cockroaches

little seemingly minute things,
that when ignored go away,
but when allowed to be pondered,
begin to pile one atop another.
and they start to crawl over and
under each other like cockroaches
trapped in a jar.
and it's all legs and bodies and
hissing. so you set the jar on a shelf,
and you try to get some sleep,
try to work through the day,
but you can hear them
clicking inside the glass,
banging their little bodies against the jar wall.
and the sound creeps inside your ear,
clicking away, hissing away,
and it's just enough to try and get through the day.
and when they get through the jar
which they most certainly will
just start crushing them below foot
in a state of fury.
you may not win
but you'll feel a whole helluva lot better.

that's exactly what i'm talking about

See, you know the faces,
the smiles, the places
of all the things that make this life
worth every breath that i take.

See, you understand the stories
the choices, the glories of all
things past and present that make
it right and pure for common good's sake.

And when you tell it, i nod
because i understand,
becaues i've been there
because i've seen where
you have stood
and the pain you've
endured to make it all happen
as you planned.

And even if it didn't
you know the path leads
to the end, to the means
to the place where all things
come together.
And for this
I celebrate.

ham and cheese

I'm currently in the middle of a cleanse. Apparently my wife thinks I've been drinking too much coffee and eating too much pork. And those two things combined wreak havoc in my stomach. Create an acidic blend of hostility. So she says. I was doing just fine.

But not now. Now I'm on a strict diet of water with little green floaty things that taste like grass, and a soup concoction of every vegetable known to man crammed into one bowl of delusion.

I haven't craved a ham and cheese sandwhich this bad. Ever. But man, what I wouldn't give for a little slice of pink meat topped with cheese on a good old fashioned slice of goodness. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.