my grace is cherubic,
seraphic, angelic,
she is a temple built
upon skepticism.

my boy wears a sloth-suit
and is swept away by even
the weakest rapids after
dipping only his pinky toe.

my grace is a hefty FAFSA award,
and she is report card dinners,
a new-blue honda, a heartbreak,
she is coming home to  do laundry.

my boy is a defect, anomalous,
he cannot bide his time and so
rushes. i chase him to the city
limits and hope he'll get it right.

my grace is building strength,
compartmentalizing, sequencing,
she is careening into career
and coping/moping with loss.

my boy is behind, he's lazy.
he shirks, avoids, evades,
any escape, any port, no storm,
he has to bring something else,

he only sits with us when he
wants something. he spends
time with us when it serves
his agenda, his procrastination,

he likes men; he's abnormal,
he has to bring something
extra to the table or else
it will reflect badly on me.

i never went to college.
i rarely did my homework,
so my daughter, son, my wife,
they bear the brunt of my avoidance.

my grace breaks down while
student-teaching. i love her.
my boy aces econ test after
physics quiz. i tolerate him.