once I was a star-eyed child
standing still
between a muddy earth and a glistening sky and
dream of fire and God.
I had not learned how to tip toe
I was lighter then,
and silence was still.
Give me a holiday without
holes beneath my feet,
clowns dancing above my head.
oh a holiday,
a holiday’s
scent of lilac and jasmine,
soft and intoxicating.
i cannot believe–
the same guy who shaved
a single mutton chop just
to see to if anyone would
notice (and then forgot)
the same guy who vowed
to wear black pants and a
white shirt for an entire
year (but failed because of a girl)
the very same guy who ran
nude with us across
Norlin quad and into the
shockingly cold night (after some hesitation)
the exact same guy who breathed
in the Pacific after we drove
to the edge of the continent to
sleep under Redwood trees (eventually)
–will soon be a father.
i cannot believe the guy who
shaved
vowed
ran
breathed
will soon be a father.
but i am confident he will
be brilliant (and quite the
embarrassment during her
teenage years).
