waiting for that annoying but not deadly
rattle to be fixed on the van
and killing time in the nursery across the street,
I introduced my son for the first time to aloe.
Ooo, it's prickly, he said, holding out his
one-soft-touch-finger, which he unfurls
for excursions like this one.
Yes, I say, but inside is a cool and wonderful juice
that will make you better if you get burned. Remember?
A burn is a special owie you get from something hot.
Then today, I had to use the aloe we have on the shelf,
the juice already extracted, bottled and labeled with an American flag,
after I burned myself on the hottest, longest burning blaze we've ever had
in our suburban fireplace.
Guess I better not introduce him to the
heart defibrillator they just installed
at the airport.
Words I Scribbled in Front of Last Year's Calendar
and Then Needed to Remember Today
After Three Hours and Fourteen Phone Calls
Resulted In Her Saying, "But I Don't Want That."
"They took from
you what they needed
and you are not
didn't need more."