Where Is My Friend? Dorianne Laux

The shadow I cast when I stand in the sun has disappeared beneath the trees, shadows of crows over the roof of the post office, or the field of clover they fly above, throats open, stitching the world together with a fine thread, doing the work of belonging. Nothing is too trivial to love enough to walk toward it, your footsteps leaving badges on the earth, even the nettles that chafe your ankles worthy of love, sparks of pain, like your shadow, that prove you’re alive.

1985, Vincent Rendoni

First, there was nothing, then there was me.

Hot summer day. Cosby Show on repeat.

Patriarch in his sweaters. Dropping bygone knowledge. His only son wasn’t listening. “Theo” would’ve fit me, but my mother & John Travolta. Welcome Back, Kotter.

Maybe he’ll be a heartthrob, she said.

Locks that go on forever.

My father: Maybe he’ll be a conqueror, but he’s got such a pale color.

Namesakes, bad omens, he scoffed as he held me. Foreigner on the radio: I want to know what love is.

The world, even then, was burning. Refugees moved. Trains derailed. Futures hijacked. We patted ourselves on the back for the lasting peace we had made. Grandfathers chomping cigars, shaking hands, saying look at what we have made. Bloodline secure. Which halfway through existence, I see the value of more & more. Studies show our lifespans are extending all the time. We’re living more than we’re dying. I’m sorry, my father failed to see it. He lived with abandon. I forgive him, for when he panicked & ran. What we do when we see our own mortality.

My mother liked to say, like mothers often say, you were lucky to be born here. Now. At this time.

I wonder how that first cigarette, that first Tab with my aunt tasted when I was milkfed & she had time for herself again.

Good. The chances were good. We knew what love is. Andrea Gutierrez is the managing editor of the Bryan County News. Poems found on poets.org.