PoetryAloud

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The Ride Home

When you were a baby I stayed home with you
I heard your first “daddy” at breakfast and “fox” at the zoo
I taught you to say “astounding” to impress your mom
And “oh crap” when we saw crazy neighbor Tom
I washed you in a bucket, on the balcony outside
I laughed myself silly and felt amazing inside.
 
I fed you guacamole and refried beans
When I changed your diaper it was nothing I’d ever seen
I took you to the park and the hardware store
We picked up acorns and screws for the door
We sang songs on Main Street so far off key
That people at the bus stop, craned their necks to see
When I read you books I did voices and sounds
You laughed and you laughed, at the characters we found.
 
I met you in Boston this morning for tea
I heard you say “dad” and ask about me
We walked to your apartment so you could play me a song
Written for a friend you hadn’t known that long
It was full of heart and a strange sense of peace
For a young man your age you seemed so at ease
You said “oh crap” when I told you about the time
I walked down Main Street pretending to be a mime
When I left for the train you said “enjoy the ride.”
I knew I already had and felt amazing inside.

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