He slides his cheap little Timex
onto his wrist and hops into
the passenger seat.

We could end up just about anywhere,
the local video store, a coffee shop,
the myriad of thrift stores,
or the ******* moon.

He doesn’t care,
as long as I turn him loose.

He just wants to be a big guy,
and wishes he had a squad of
loud cohorts to tag alongside
but, he doesn’t.

So, we hit the street,
my boy and I,
and I warn him…

'Don’t leave the building,
don’t go with anyone;
be back here in 30 minutes.'
He nods vigorously,
anxious to be off.

At the bottom of the 35th minute,
my nerves creep up.
Recalling the time I was almost
kidnapped.
I’ve never forgotten that old man
with his cane covered in etched snakes
and his offering of Reese’s peanut butter cups.

I’m in that hospital hallway, near that drinking fountain,
and my momma steps out of nowhere: “Jay”, she says loudly;
“You get over here by me.”
I move to her side without a word, but with a new awareness.

Fast-forward 30 years, and I’m back.
Standing worried near customer-service;
thinking about how easily swayed  he can be.

I hear a quiet ‘hello’
and can breathe again.
*
-JB Claywell
©P&ZPublications;
2015