My sister adopted a boy, she agreed
to whichever sex came first. Her surprise,
boys really do like trucks, like girls like dolls,
it’s not a myth she insists, I did nothing

to encourage this love of every truck he sees.
He bounces in the car, points his finger at 
garbage trucks, tractor trailer trucks, cargo 
trains, she emphasizes, Boys love trucks and 

trains. She insists she had no influence, but 
she bought him a hand carved wooden train set 
in Pike Place Market, spent more than I make 
in a day. He’s a boy-king traveling the world 

with my sister, the lawyer, growing him up 
international: Paris, Vienna, Italy, and when he turned 
nine they visited his home country, Vietnam, to see if 
he had interest in connecting, he did not. He’s 

Americanized with a fleet of toy trucks, plays 
basketball. His aunt, we have zilch in common.
A geek on his computer, his phone, he builds robots. 
Off to college, he's ready to truck around the world.
                        

It was a self-care day with my case management
team, we went to the local zoo then for Mexican
food. I look at the picture—three of us sitting
on a bronze hippo like we’re riding a horse,
our arms out we ascend, two of us women,
closer to girls back then, and Scott, the youngest
between us. It’s Scott who’s gone, he got lymphoma 
and his wife, a social worker at the VA, insisted 
the most radical intervention, but something went
wrong. Hard to believe at twenty-eight with a son
on the way, a daughter he adored, that he would fail. 
We had that rare day to laugh at the zoo, one minute
on a hippo, then the slide into mud he took.
I didn’t get to the hospital for a final visit
before the coma, before the difficult decision 
to end life support had to be made.
                        

or retail merchandise
or young girls who escape pregnancy 
until they turn 20.
 
But, she worked in a woman’s clothing store
grew to hate how the women 
tried on designer clothes, but never bought a thing,
they made a mess for her to clean up,
folding and refolding.
 
So she moved to the men’s department
used her smile, her long blond hair,
asked them what they needed.
She handed them the perfect fit
they bought exactly
what they came in for
and more.
 
She suggested items to accentuate, 
a belt or a tie, they appreciated 
her interest.
It was much easier
she even found a husband.
She thought this was her escape,
till she hit fifty, endangered
like the rest of us.