Somewhere between the age of 12 and 13
Kitty became a make up queen
Each time she turned up at the door
She’d more make up on than before
Her parents could not figure out why
She slapped it on, she piled it high
From orange ears to blue shaded eyes
From red lips to black butterflies
After a while her poor little face
Had more layers to it than a wedding cake
So she made some changes to her routine
Got up each day at four fifteen
Skipped breakfast, hopped in and out the shower
Which left, for make up, a mere three hours
This worked well for a little while
Until a teacher remarked she’d lost her smile
At which point in her heart she knew
She’d need an extra hour or two
To don her make up every day.
So she started arriving at school quite late
At nine at first, but soon midday
Light’s nice at that time anyway.

Then one day, a rather dashing lad
Offered to help her carry her bags.
Now Kitty thought he’d cussed her eyes,
So she slapped him and ran home to revise
Her make up routine, before she cried
And ruined her mascara.

Now this rather dashing handsome lad
Could not help feeling he’d been had
He stood there red as blush itself
And swore he’d fall for someone else.

Kitty meanwhile, back at home
Was swotting up on her skin tone
And trying every shade of white
To hide the scars of sleepless nights.
“I’ll teach that lad, that dashing lad –
I’ll be something he has to have
He’ll want me so much he’ll carry my bags
With weights in them that break his back!!!”
And with a slightly evil laugh,
Her plan was made, the die were cast.

We rejoin Kitty five days on
After a five day make up marathon
Her skin-tone matched, her bags are gone
Except her school bag, which weighs a tonne –
But at the school gate, something’s wrong
Hang on, where is everyone?
Oh Kitty, Kitty, oh Kitty cakes
That is an embarrassing mistake
You’re not early, they’re not late –
You’ve come to school on a Saturday!

Ablush with embarrassment and all alone
Kitty’s mascara ran all the way home
And all the foundations and eye-shadow pens
Couldn’t put Kitty together again.
But just at the corner before her own street
Outside the corner shop, who should she meet?
But the boy, not the boy, the rather dashing young lad
Who was sat on the fence by the shop looking sad
Looking sad, looking blue, looking ever so glum
Like it wasn’t that long since he last ****** his thumb.


At first as their paths crossed they were both destined
Not to look in each other’s direction
But luckily old cupid used light and reflections
To swap left and right with two moment's intersecton
The arrow was fired, the sightline was true,
Said the boy, "What a perfectly red shade are you!
Without your mascara, without those lips too -
You look even hotter than you usually do!"

"Am I bovverred?" Said Kitty, looking bothered as could be.
"Well you do look a bit bovvered if I’m honest," said he.
"Well I am a bit bovvered if I’m honest," said she.

"Why don’t we make up and then I’ll walk you home?"
"Then we can hang out and we won’t be alone"
"I’ll give you the pin to my blackberry phone"
"We’ll sync up our wardrobes and match our skin tones"
"I’ll friend you on Facebook". "I’ll call you at night".
"I’ll take you nice places." "I’ll treat you right nice."
“You will”, said Kitty? "I will," said he,
“But first let me start my repeating my offer
To carry your school bag if you can’t be bovvered.”
“My school bag said Kitty,” repeating the offer
“To carry one of my school bags if I can’t be bothered?”

Now this time, Kitty had understood right
So she took off one of her school bags, and put it down by her side
“Long story, don’t ask…” She said with a pout,
And she gave him one, of her bags, once she took the weights out.

I feel butterflies
These ones in my stomach
They are not butterflies at all

They are darkness
They are love
They are everything I keep hidden

Everything I’m too afraid to feel
Everything that could bring me to my knees
Either in pain or ecstasy

These butterflies only show up when I am with you
They are clawing at my stomach
Begging to be freed

I keep them locked inside
If I let them out, they would leave a big hole

This hole would put my insides on display
It would show you those very things I have bottled up for so long
All of those fears and failures
Hopes and dreams
It would allow you to touch the heart
      I spent so long building a wall around

Giving you my heart isn’t what scares me,
It is the pieces of it you will leave
     after you decide you don’t want it anymore

butterflies would always find me
in the dark

butterflies would always find me
to break my heart

butterflies would always find me
in my deepest dreams

butterflies would always find me
everytime somebody would leave

I never used to be like this,
Not even 4 months ago,
I never used to wake up feeling sick
to my stomach,
Disgusted with myself, that I'm a
problem that people have to deal with,
Filled with anxiety causing a shaking
in my heart and ribs,
These butterflies are not cute,
They have wings of glass, puncturing
me from the inside out.
They're not because of you, but only
a repercussion of thinking of you,
and him, and her, and them,
and then, and when, and how.
               You'll leave.
               He thought he didn't hurt me.
               She was the only thing I had.
               They showed me I can't be one
               of them.
               Then the butterflies awoke,
               When I couldn't cope,
               How can I trust that you
               won't do the same.

I'm not a person. I'm the problem.

How cruel a thing time is
How it drags us onwards relentlessly, against our will
No respect for our feelings, for what we might want
After all, assuming it's a man made invention
Why can't we decide when to go and when to stop?
When to run and when to walk?
Sometimes I just need a minute to catch my breath
Other times I watch the clock dilly-dally for hours
As it playfully skips from one second to the next
Blissfully unaware of the urgency that surrounds it
Then there are times when I don't just want it to stop
I want it to never have existed
Like when you look in the mirror then ask me if you look okay...
Like when I glance at you while you're reading...
Like when I see you doing anything really
In any given theoretical situation
That is when I want time to just not be
That is when I want time to just not be there
I love you like I love butterflies
But butterflies flying everywhere

I've traded the butterflies in my stomach for birds
woodpeckers,— they seem to be of the groans
I have around
you.

tap, tap, tap

There goes the sound of my love for you,
flying south to the warmest parts of
my heart

Truly I am bird shy in expressing my love

Is this truly
love?

Butterflies are birds now

There’s black butteflies twirling around my soul
Slowly luring me, wrapping my crushed spirit
Inviting me to disappear from this world of misery

The black butterflies mummified my body
Inch by inch they took care of my wrecked vessel like a soldier died fighting on the battlefield

People keep on telling me to be strong
They never realized my strength is drained
I wish my heart is big enough to contain this endless pain

Oh I want to be in paradise
Oh I want to be in paradise
Oh.I.want.to.be.in.paradise.

You always give me butterflies.
Won’t you take them away?
I find it nearly impossible to think when my heart is beating to the rhythm of their gossamer wings.
And it’s all because of you.

I'm kind of liking the butterflies
Flying around
Like there's all the time in the world.
I'm kind of liking the simplicity,
Just you and me talking about
All the little things that matter,
To you, to us, to them.
I call the butterflies my friends.

Our lips have met one another and tasted like liquor. But ones once they turned tasteless and my blood was no longer tainted, the greeting felt natural.
Your hands brushed upon my trembling body and they felt like the first fallen leaves of autumn. So delicate and new.
The words from your mouth felt like butterflies within my body, all over my body.
Your stare feels like a ray of sunlight after a wretched rainstorm, when I ask why you look you reply, "because you're beautiful"

I have stomach aches
Caused from the hole deep within me
Where the butterflies ate away at the flesh that I was
You see butterflies are nasty little things
They like to come when you want…to come.
For that special someone
But I have butterflies for people that don’t know I do.
So I tried to fill the hole with honey
With vanilla
With anything that I could get my sticky fingers on.
The only thing my fingers got on was me
And then they got me off
Because I have this hole
This deep burning hole that gives me stomach aches
That I want to fill with peaches
With kiwi
With pomegranates
Sometimes the stomach aches come in the night
When I lay there in my peach colored sheets
Pulling at an old band tee shirt until it comes off
And I become a writhing mess in the witching hours
But sometimes my stomach aches for the boy that wears sweaters
It twist and turn and the hole will scream from my abdomen
“Give me”
I want to kiss his lips
I want to stain his sheets with my ***
But then the ache goes away
I’ll get an ache for the arrogant and snarky boy
When he sits there with long, admirable fingers
I want him to dig them into me
And sometimes my stomach aches for me
It aches for the day that I can completely satisfy myself
In every aspect a human ever could

I wish you all the happeiness
I wanted for myself and more.
I wish you find that one person
You can appreciate and adore.
I wish you songbirds at dawn
And cool breezes at night
I hope all your fondest dreams
Will turn out to be just right.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

I wish you romantic dinners
And walks along the river
Under twinkling skirts of stars
And long, loving talks together.
I wish the joys one finds in love
And being close to each other.
I wish you mutual respect
And that it goes on forever.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

I wish you what I'm sure love is,
Which is that I want for you
That all the best should happen
And my wishes will come true.
I wish you all the best of life,
And the heaven it can be.
I wish wondrous days for you,
I just wish it were with me.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

oh my god
i am so sorry

it's just that my battery died and i drove around for hours looking for your new second floor apartment
i am sticking my fingers down my throat and i’m gagging until these ******* butterflies find their way out of my cavernous stomach

you aren’t allowed to laugh when i walk through your door with cold taco bell and red cheeks because i’m nervous
you've never seen this freckle before, you don't know my new favorite song
you rest your arms on my legs and move closer to me and we both scream because we’re gonna puke, butterflies

i ask you for a glass of water and you should ask me to leave
trembling, you don’t even use a coaster
i take a sip and stare at the tupperware on the floor, i taste dishwasher soap and it is almost enough to scare these butterflies who used to remain dormant right out of my ******* gut

Saul. Babbittz.
Slight variation of the name Paul - sometimes pronounced
with the
"ah-oolll"
of Raul - to intrigue cashiers and toll booth attendents.

These words seem meaningless and even less interesting than the blank white background each letter invades.

And still I thank the God in my stomach that wakes up every once in a while to capture butterflies before I leave the house so I can turn down the sounds in my head that stir the butterflies to a frenzied mess of tangled neurons and synaptic maladjustment.

My interaction goes something like this:
cashier-"do you have a bonus card?"
me-(holding out the pad of my thumb - serious like lava)
cashier-(looking at me with a confused look)
me- "I thought thumb scans were enacted throughout the states. Sorry about that, I just got used to the thumb scan back home in North Dakota".
cashier- (dumbfounded, slightly annoyed)
me- (chuckling-embarrassed smirk) "you know, like a dystopian tracking system?"
cashier- "uh, not really" (avoiding eye contact, rushed transaction) "freak" (under her breath).

butterflies again
I've never even lived in North Dakota!
Just uncomfortable enough to prove that body heat activated "degree" does not provide 24 hour protection...

Next transaction a day later:
me- (silence)

Black dress,  white dress
Twin souls, twin sisters,
hold hands in the october sun..

both different, both the same..
on this day, a frog is caught..
they take it home..

they feed it, they take care of it
butterflies white, butterflies black..
sisters smile to eachother..

brown eyes, blues eyes,
sisters, twins
souls trapped under the october sun..

holding hands
blue and brown eyed twins..
are followed that day under the october sun..

One of them could have run..
but blue could not leave brown..
and thus they are together forever..

butterflies and jitters
stutters and whispers

shaking and sweating
hesitating and forgetting

I walk
on a park so serene that birds gather on the tree tops to sing
a song that so nostalgic in a way you lighten up
and smile to embrace the setting sun an overwhelming feeling nonetheless
and you cannot ignore the view of the diving sun splattering depths of maroon
to the innocent clouds co-waltzing by with the grey blue sky so obvious
which only shows a beauty the nature can offer to the mortal eyes to see

the scenery is alluring that I would rather enjoy to sit under a tree
than to relax my body on a bench that are lined in an amusing way
facing the performance  of the slow warm afternoon



I write
under a tree to feel the fullness of this afternoon scribbling poems
because in this way I feel amazingly close to  nature that I appreciate every bit of it,
watching the butterflies playing a game of hide and seek while the one hiding
are the little pretty flowers rooted near the trees and the other rooted under the bench
and how I notice the trees are laughing cause the butterflies can’t seem to find the shy flowers
because in this spot I can see clearly what’s happening around me every bit of it
kids running around full of innocence and happiness not minding the butterflies
a lovers embracing each other like they are the only sweet thing around
and gaze at each other’s eye that seems likely make the time lingers

and look at the bench again that is not so far away from me
an uneasy feeling, a feeling of familiarity, a feeling of connection
just like me sitting alone under a tree a girl alone on her bench



I look
at you partly because you’re alone like me enjoying the dawdling afternoon,
partly because you have the beauty my very heart so desire,
partly because you make my heart skipped a beat this past few days,
partly because my love for you is growing every day I see you here and
it is not that hard to focused my all attention to you ignoring everything around me
even the love the couple emits with their embrace but you seem to be in trance
with the love the couple radiates and closely in your eyes melancholy tears fell
but still your even perfect when you cry and even angels weep to see you cry
maybe you miss the love you once have, maybe you feel so alone and so absorbed
that you feel there is no hope for the right one for you but only if you would look at me
here by the tree and I’ll give you a hope, I’ll offer you a smile so warm

but I can’t tell I’m the one only you can, but I’m sure I could kiss your tears goodbye
and you’re the only one I see myself dancing and holding each other’s hand
to stand near the tree when the sun sunk and this is all I’m hoping tell you about it.

Every time he gets closer
I take a step back
I tell myself don’t ever
become too attracted

Fear of commitment makes me wanna run
Whenever I hear the word love or trust
Cause those words are hard to come by
And they like to fly away like butterflies

They’re futile lies gone too soon
That slip away from grasping hands
And they flutter up some other room
They didn’t remain, do you understand?
They united some other bride and groom

Futile lies and butterflies

let it not be confused
let no one else's name
ring throughout these sentences
let this be a hatchet
let me put this to rest
this is not a test
i don't want to think
about shipwrecks anymore
i am tired of folding apologies
into origami birds
and placing them
at the headstones to your tantrums
this is not is not geology class
these are promises
written on razorblades
      & if you are getting choked up
        then maybe you should be
maybe we should be buried
with our telescopes face down
my mouth is full of sorry
all for being honest
we are falling out of orbit
we are burning bystanders
so cast away your callous condolences
because no one is clapping
in this waist deep water
this is not a baptism
so do not tell strangers
that this was a chance to drown
any differently
i am not a catalogue
of constellations you cannot name
this is not mythology
so stop believing your horoscope
i am not a wishing well
i am just a wall for you
to paint post nuclear fallout & antonyms for catharsis on
we destroy the things
that are not ours-
the wanton ways
we embody wrecking *****
and then cry over the rubble
this is not a heap or a mosaic
this is leaping
off a thousand story building
with no one to catch you
at the bottom & maybe
that's why some quiet moments
are so fragile, maybe that's why butterflies have mimicry
your words are black powder
and poetry is your musketry
i guess that makes me your blindfold

Dear Future Wife,




I know that it wasn’t easy going through the tides of life. It will never be easy. You might find yourself looking for someone who would fulfil the emptiness that you would feel inside. It is my strongest hope that you won’t entertain anyone who would try to take your heart. I would like you to focus on your studies at this point. I know that studying could sometimes be boring or somewhat hard, but I trust you with this one. You can do it.



I’m writing this letter for a purpose. I would like to tell you some things before I marry you or before you become my girlfriend or even before I meet you. I would like to start this message by thanking you in advance. Thank you for choosing me out of the billions of men who are better and more handsome than me. I know that I never deserved somebody like you, and it’s kind of unfair for me because when we would be together, I know that we would look like beauty and the beast. You’d be beauty and I’d be beast.



Thank you for the patience that you will have with me for the next 10 to 70 years. I appreciate how you would make me smile and laugh and even cry at times. It wouldn’t be hard to be with me, because I beat a girl in terms of emotions. Thank you for being faithful with me. I just want you to know that I would not look for anyone else but you. You’re the one I am praying for every night before I go to sleep and every morning before you get up from bed.



It may not be my season yet to be in love. I promise you that I will wait. I will not rush anything with you. Forgive me if I wouldn’t give you flowers and chocolates for valentines while we are still students. I promise you that I will give you something more than that at the right time. I would reserve my hands for you, you and my mother will be the only women who would be able to grasp my very hands while walking. I would reserve myself for you. There would be lots of temptations, but beloved, I promise you that the only one who would control our relationship is God.



It would not be easy being with me. It will never be. But I thank you for choosing me. Forgive me if I can’t be as handsome as the celebrities you watch in movies. I may not be handsome, but I promise to love you with all I am until my final breath.



I’m Excited



I’m excited to be your boyfriend and experience butterflies in my stomach whenever I’m with you.

I’m excited to give you gifts every occasion.

I’m excited to text you the words “I love you” every morning.

I’m excited to see you walking on the altar.

I’m excited to hear the words “You may kiss the bride”

I’m excited to be your husband.

I’m excited to forestall you in waking up just to cook for you.

I’m excited to have dogs (we’ll name them Bacon and Goya)

I’m excited to start a family with you.

I’m excited to roam the world with you.



But while our story is not yet clashing to each other in His book, my excitement would not stop me from waiting. I will wait for you. I promise. I love you.



Your Future Husband

when she was eight years old
she
asked her mother
have you seen the girl with
lashes like butterflies against sharp cheekbone branches?
a dandelion sprouting from sludge covered gutters and streets
streets, where you feel that bitter bland nothingness in your stomach

it feels buttery to stare at her:
see how snow outstretches arms and twirls tippy toes, envies her grace
see how balloon sized raindrops pop, target the freckles on her arm
see how her forehead crinkles when she concentrates, nothing more than a beacon
proclaiming she trickles with stars

when she was eight years old
her parent's violent protests slipped bruises under her skin like pennies in a coin slot
but they could not contain the celestial girl tucked under her ribcage.

she would still look at her like she was the breakfast sun on a saturday
whistling by the creak, catching glimpses of dresses from behind the legs of trees.
see how this is special love, sweet as strawberry fields under soft sun
they would never feel on their forked, sour tongues

I saw two butterflies in the alley,
'Twixt the new well and the orange tree;
With the shade of the tree they seemed to dally
To tease the sun who, without them cannot be.
I overheard two blackbirds when I looked up:
“Why can’t we tease the shade like the butterflies?”
Said the maid-bird, pretending an orange to sup.

And before she could even realize,
The black bird spread his wings over her thighs.
In the throbbing blue flakes of the sky she cries
& she cries & she moans & she moans & she cries -
Unlike a Buddhist.
(c)LazharBouazzi

Belly churning

        Gurgling

               Roaring

      And they’re dying to get out

But the only door that’s open

            Is my mouth

And they come flying

      Flapping

                           Sloshing

               Soaking

                      Spewing

         Fighting their way out

In a steaming sunny pile

A heap of butterflies and bile


Since I met you all I can think about

             Is kissing you clean

Square on the mouth

With my molten butterfly breath

             All hot and bothered

My golden belly

Glowing empty

Growing full

Of hot air

Churned by frail wings

                                                     And I can’t help wishing

                           That they’d cause some tidal waves

               Natural disasters

        And ignite some panic

               In your stomach

                                                      Half a world away


     If my world is ending I hope yours is too

            In a torrent of butterflies

                   Vomited out

                        Perpetual stomach flu

I remember seeing her
for the first time
and I remember
telling myself that
we'll never be together.

I felt my stomach turn.
It must've been the butterflies
fluttering away
because they know that
they will not be useful
to a man filled
with hopelessness

I felt it. Every single one of them fluttering within me, wanting to break free and escape my stomach. But they remained there—concealed in my body, surrounding my lungs and I swear I couldn't breathe. And every part of me couldn't function right. My legs, unsteady along with my hands that only longed to be intertwined with yours. My chest, aching with so much affection. My eyes, remaining fixated at yours—allowing myself to get lost in its beauty that holds so much mysteries. Then my mind, suffused with abundant thoughts which were only of you. And I knew: I was drowning in butterflies for you. The butterflies you've somehow created inside me; the same butterflies that would eventually devour whatever's left of me.

I heard her thoughts breathe.

said,

she needed something with Redwood patience to understand why her mind traveled with butterflies searching for Eden.

Said, she felt ants inside her dreams carrying away the dead.

wondered if there was no limits to how her heart could grow or communicate with anything.

I saw her quaking eyes search for a place to land back before the first words that God said.

She felt the masterpiece come alive at midnight it spoke beyond all languages, treaded outside of logic, flew outside of time, connected itself with everything alive and spoke to her with a simple grace.

Everything is already yours.
Your heart is the doorway home.

She took a piece of me when she left, left an ice pick for me to play with.

Her sensitive nature understood why roots dug down in a quest for warm solace.

My heart almost closed forever, I felt the final straw detour me to wasteland.

I ran emerald frontiers in her eyes,
butterflies landing on my hands
their wings stained my eyelids
I can't go to sleep without flying through her.

my heart headed to the outskirts of Eden
imagining how she is
Loving her from behind bars
Her butterflies never seeking
my garden.

It almost wilted.

Windy wrath almost destroyed it all.

I had to search the silence
Try to understand myself through a tortured past, I had to tame your tyrant that grew inside my head.

I had to bear the weight of impatient voices that I could not repeat to anybody here
but the dead already know it,
Ones that died by their own hand.

I heard her thoughts breathe

said,

our roots go past the stars
hidden in our beating blood
is the whisper and light of God.

Life is not all rainbows and butterflies.
Just ask the ones that lie inside,
Lifeless and dull.
Fluttering their wings inside my skull,
Torturing me until I have died.
Life is not all rainbows and butterflies.

I made a list of the things I need
And it’s only ten lines long
You were almost all of them
Except for the very first one

I let myself skip over the first line
And didn’t even know
I saw you for how wonderful you are
Not knowing butterflies wouldn’t grow

Our children may chase butterflies.
but me?
I’ll stay by your side.

teens may break with the tide
and run off alone with butterflies.
But Not me my dear, I’m by your side.

Other men chose butterflies
and then go off with small goodbyes.
But not you my dear, your by my side.

Knowledge is butterflies in flight.
A doubting caterpillar needs
His faith in metamorphosis.
Without it his future: horror.

Mother gone this way before him.
Father gone before his time here.
The only hope: whispered instinct.
A still sound in the face of fear.

"Those who've gone before me", says he
"Loved me and wanted good for me."
"They willed me to believe in life
Beyond: the metamorphosis."

Every day, eat of leaf. Chew. Rest.
Do not wander ye from safety.
Heed ye these rules, follow the way.
Know ye that our decree's from love.

Brother tells tall tales, adventure
Excitement, a world of wonder
To have now! No waiting, no need
To wait, fear, hope. Enjoy it now!

Brother says: "metamorphosis
Is a tale made by those who want
To control and manipulate.
To keep us from pleasures in life."

Brother says: "The dark chrysalis
Is a grave, death, ending, final.
Now is time to discover.
What tastes good is the true good.

Only now do we have the chance
To learn, explore, see and enjoy."
He's eaten leaves outside the path.
Brother says: "they are juicy good!

Come all, leave this way mapped by those
Who want to keep you from juicy
Leaves and the whole wide world to see"
Brother says. "Don't hope, enjoy now."

Sister left the barque, left the safe
Path to the leaves mapped out by some
Unknown cartographer. Unknown!
She's not back. He hopes for her best.

But our caterpillar here, friend,
Has chosen the old dreams and hope.
To follow the path mapped to leaves
That nourish the body and heart.

He has chosen to believe that
The wisdom of age and instinct
Is more trustworthy than the word
Of youthful brother's juicy world.

His doubts he's cocooned in faith's silk.
These bland leaves he eats for promise
Of sweet flower's nectar beyond.
Today's toil for tomorrow's joy.

Doubt frightens. The chrysalis looms.
No control, nature compels it.
Unfair, afraid, the silk spins tight.
In pain, the world grows dark and still.

He faces his end. He must choose
To listen to the still, small sound.
Have faith he's not schizophrenic.
Believe in more passed the cocoon.

His ancestral council and creed
He chooses to embrace and trust
To face his end with dream and hope.
His doubts cocooned by faith in Love.

Butterflies are knowledge in flight.
For at their end, faith is fulfilled.
These butterflies their joy have reached,
Through faith in metamorphosis.

Ol’ Long and Tall sits
uncomfortably in the
seat next to mine.

It is obvious that his
back is bothering him
this morning.

‘Hey, dad…”

This is how it always starts.
Anytime he wants to talk,
he opens with this salvo.

I think it’s like using a turn signal
when changing lanes or something,
and who really knows what lane my boy
is in as he hurtles down his own highway?

It’s not that I don’t know him,
or care what’s on his mind, not
at all.

We’re both thinkers,
Alex and I, it’s just that
he gets a little bit tangled up
now and then, and just goes blank,
but never dull.

I think “Hey, dad…” offers a bit of a reset;
just a moment’s pause for organization,
such as it is in Alex’s case.

“Hey dad…” he starts.
“Did you know…?”

He goes on to tell me
some facts, which I forget
now,
about Hawaii.

Soon, that folder is empty
so he begins telling me tidbits
about the migratory process
of monarch butterflies.

“Where did you learn this stuff?”
I ask.

“At school.”
“On the internet.”
he states.


“Good.”
“That’s good.”
I assure him.

“There’s more to the internet
than You Tube and Minecraft;
and you found it.  I’m glad”

“Yup.” he says and grins his squinty grin
at me.

I nod and keep driving,
it is a school day and we’re on
the highway.

No radio this morning,
just talk.

I wait.
5 seconds
10 seconds
15 seconds

“Hey dad…”

*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2016