Toddlers were combing the purple hair of
a giant, gentle monster at the Children’s Museum of the Arts,
when you cropped up from behind me.
You put your arms around and smiled.
Your old broad slightly crooked smile,
which spoke of hidden discomfort
melted down my guard.
I could not chastise a fellow lost in pain.
“How’ ve you been?” I asked enjoying your prolonged hug.
I bent my head backward,
so I could feel your warm cheek touching mine.
I was trying to turn so I could face you,
when you let go and settled in the chair next to mine.
“Are they yours?” You asked nonchalantly
watching the toddlers combing the gentle giant.
“All?” I replied counting five kids of different races and ethnicities.
“Does it matter?” I heard your voice
and it suddenly dawned upon me
No, the quantity of toddlers did not matter.
“No, not those,” I replied
and nodded towards mine;”These,” two girls notably older than the combers.
And I’ve forgotten about you.
I was momentarily lost watching their laughs playing hide’n seek.
When I finally turned my head slightly to see your approval
Someone else was sitting on the chair next to me.
She was lost too – in texting.
And I suddenly remembered.
You knock at my soul’s window
The Children’s Museum of Art
NYC, Winter 2012