poem of the day 11.26.13

taking stock

the kid with down syndrome

is pacing back and forth in front of my desk

he’s not a kid, really

although he’s small like one

i have him pegged at twenty tops

he keeps pacing then bouncing on one leg to lean in

going puh-puh-puh in lieu of conversation

before leaning back out and pacing again

i can’t tell if he has a question

or if he needs the key to the bathroom

or if there’s something wrong and i should get his keeper

if they’re even called keepers

i split the difference

and keeping reading the new york times

in lieu of doing my job

h-how long have y-you been here?

he finally leans in and asks

do you mean on this planet? i answer

blank stare

i’ve been here too long, i say

spreading a little sarcasm on the morning

i get another blank stare

before he starts pacing again, going puh-puh-puh

and i stop reading the times

thinking, great, now i’m the asshole

who’s giving a down syndrome kid a hard time

four years, i blurt out

he stops pacing

four years here

six years on the job

ten years in this city

twenty years of working with at least as many jobs

in three cities with two cars and two cats and one wife

who was once one of four girlfriends that i’ve had in this life

in fifteen apartments and homes

spread all over almost forty years on this planet

continuing on and on for an incalculable amount of time

until i’m dead and gone and carbon

and someone else is sitting here in this seat answering questions

how’s that?  i ask my new friend

he nods and says nothing

goes back to pacing and puh-puh-puh

while i go back to the times

and an ever-increasingly violent and dull world

where peace and empathy have gone the way of the dogs

and everyone seems to have a cold war nuclear hard-on again

until he leans in and asks me

w-what is y-your favorite color?

and i lean forward and tell him

you know, kid, color is a tricky thing

especially in this country