During your two minute face time session
Jesse’s attention shifts between you
and his worker, Jimmy, just off screen
making him seem restless, unsettled,
more autistic. You pass a greeting, ask
simple questions and Jesse’s eyes dart
to his right, pause for a second before
he finds permission or a prompt to look
at you and speak. His eyes keep moving
side to side. You know how it feels to be
caught between two forces, trying to find
a semblance of balance. Your mother
surrounding you with unconditioned
love, your father always expecting better.
Sitting at your St Ann’s window desk,
a young nun writing on the blackboard,
your eyes drifting out the window, the chalk
drawn strike zone on the building’s brick
wall, cross-taped stickball bat resting
on your shoulder, lifting it an inch, two,
as the pitcher rears back, your fingers
tightening your grip, bat meeting
the thigh high Pensie Pinkie pitch
with a line drive thwack while Sister
Carolina diagrams a complex sentence.
You and Erica lying on a picnic blanket,
talking across a restaurant table, driving
in her car, singing along to Springsteen
songs, hand in hand down the block,
kissing at the corner, falling into bed,
sleeping side by side, night after night,
fitting so easily together, all in love.
Her friends, her parents, weekend
parties, jobs, kids, apartment, house,
the future, an awkward, too often,
unspoken struggle for you. Jesse interjects
the dates he wants you to visit next,
landing him firmly on his solid ground,
the thing he wants, needs, counts on,
believes in. This time, it’s December 11
and 12, 3 days, 2 nights as usual. Realizing
you’re lying, you nod, agree anyway.
He doesn’t understand Covid, travel
restrictions. He misses bus loops, Crow
Books, peanut butter on a Breuger’s onion
bagel, no toast, Waterworks Food & Drink,
apple juice with ice, chicken fingers, French
fries extra hot, one big snack from Commodities
and maybe he misses you, too. You miss intimacy,
you and Jesse, you and Erica, when there were
only two people alive and you were one of them.
