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Michael

By
Lately it seems like my mind
is only as big as my heart.
(No, that’s not it.)

When I’m with you--
(Scratch that.)

I can’t let you get away--
(Wrong. All wrong.)

Um, when I look at you, I see...
(What? What do I see?)

I--
I guess what I’m trying to say is--

I can’t stop thinking about you.
(And, trust me, that’s the last thing that I ever wanted to happen.)
(I’ve just got to say this while I have something like courage)

Maybe you haven’t noticed the way I look at you--the way you’re the center of my
attention--
Maybe you’ve just chosen to ignore it.
( I wouldn’t blame you)

And it’s sort of weird, but I sometimes think of tracing the scars on your
eyebrow--
I actually have to stop myself.
(I can’t believe I just told you that)

And, I know this is creepy, but I’ve memorized all your shirts.
I can visualize every one I’ve ever seen you wear.
(My favorite is the yellow one) (yeah, it scares me too)

I hear your voice when it gets too quiet.
I hear your laugh--laughing at your own jokes,
(Yeah, the ones that I laugh at too--despite the fact that they make me feel
like we’re in the third grade).
Even still, I’m still smiling days later when someone unknowingly reminds me of
them.

And when I close my eyes I see your face.
Your too blue eyes (in all their perfection)
And your hair flopping perfectly over your right eyebrow.
(the one without the scars)

I see stupid stuff--like your beat up, boat sized shoes,
And that stupid green coat, and cafeteria applesauce--

But, the dumb part is--this is the dumbest part--
all of that stuff is so important to me.

And maybe you don’t want to hear this,
maybe you wish you’d never found out
Soon they’ll all know, because they’re all a part of your little joke.
Maybe you’ll even tell--

her.

You know what,
I just gotta know…

When you go home to her at night,
All 18 years of her,
Do she ask about your day at grade school?
Does she tell you about how she’s off at college all month, living without you--
Far away from what used to be her childhood.
Does she still act like a child?
Is she through with all the games and the jokes that we still laugh at time
after time.

More importantly,
Are you proud?
Do you tell her about your little craft class?
About your day at school in your linoleum locker
Herder together with the rest of us--your life scheduled out

Do you tell her about me?
Do you worry about what she’s going to think of your little friends--
Of your--

You know what?

I’ve thought about asking the world of you,
(you know, the way she did)
I think about next year without you--and the one after that.

I thought I was giving up something important.

But you know what, I’m not giving it up.
It happened, didn’t it? Even if she doesn’t know it-- it happened.

I have had a whole year to spend with you
And instead of sitting back and wishing it could have been two,
I’m going to make the best of it.

This one year has been more than I could have ever asked--

This year full of fieldtrips, and band class, and Styrofoam trays.
One year of ceramic bowls, and Frisbees, and playing cards.
One year of tye-dye and move quotes and fighting for the lunch lady’s affection.

Let me know if all of this meant nothing to you,
But if you’re even a little bit like me (and I know you are)--
It was perfection.

And, wherever she is,
if she only knew,
I bet you she’d be jealous.

Maybe she gets your kisses and your hand in hers,
And maybe she gets your arms around her waist.

But what I get
Is so genuine-- so real--
And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.





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