the power was never ours
(we stole it from the neighbors).
we took our war bonds and
food stamps
and gathered the family together
toward the bus.
once boraded we took roll.
make sure no one got left behind
waiting there
(lost and slow to tie their shoe or...)
later at the diner, i watched you break the bread.
it was so beautiful
in a sad, empathetic sort of way.
you passed around the broken basket
to the end of the table
and back again.
i didn't want to take my piece.
i wanted you to have two; one for your hunger
and one for your beauty.

you could see that it meant a lot to me.
you insisted i eat.

later, at the ice rink, i told you what was on my mind.
there were no words to pardon your reaction--
or even do it justice--
and i knew that it was good.

you invited me in from the cold
for some warm milk.