sitting close to
the TV
his weak eyes
close in
his world
a forever
fog hemming
him in
he lies
on the floor
elbows down
chin in his palms
eyes stitched
to the TV
one foot
from the set
light years
from the world
around him





lying quiet
on the bottom bunk
lost inside a
wide awake dream
his body clock
offset for hours

he doesn’t mind
the story in his mind
can continue from
the night before

or inspired by
TV, book, or
Dad’s stories

as awake dream
blends to
sleep dream





he sits on the
monkey bars
staring at
the sky

the clouds
float
sailing with the blue

head back
playground noise
blends into
blue sky

flips back
dead man's drop
lands flat
on his feet

walks slowly
to the classroom





the classroom
hot from the
coming summer

he barely
notices as he
stares out the window

his old glasses
not yet ready to
be replaced

the heat softens
the black tape
as the bridge

slowly comes apart
drops to his lap
he reassembles them

stares out the window
watching as the
butterfly drifts by

​



the teacher drones on

he looks up
shakes his head
as if to

shake off a pesky fly

he’s heard this before
each year the same buzz
of uninteresting facts

elementary school drones on

each year an imitation
of the last — he has
no hope for the future