As I read this
book
softly turn each page with
a bent finger
something comes to mind.
I have this book
I can read
and Jimmy can't.

This book makes me realize that
My life is nearly perfect
and as spotless as a washed floor
and I can even imagine good
things in my life
and Jimmy can't.

Almost all of Jimmy’s memories
are surrounded
in grief
in doubt
in pain
of the past
and what was the present.

I can go home
see my mom
talk to her about my day
ask her about her's
and Jimmy can't.

I don't have memories of my dad in jail,
living with my grandparents, or
growing up in an orphanage.
I don’t have memories of being beat up,
abandoned, or forgotten.
Although my life is
not perfect,
It's more spotless
than the orphanage floor
in Jimmy's life.