Deja view
right there within the frame of my apartment window
like a snapshot I can hear it Spring
to life
rustling and I am there wrestling with my youth
so young
weeping willow
unaware of anything going on around me because
my father is alive
playing with me the way a father does
with his hands (like time)
open w i d e to the endless possibles
and he’s going to tease me again
I can feel it coming and I’m
too 8 years old to worry to fear to
“Do you think you’re gonna marry her, Sport?”
he asks in his New Jersey-esque
I’m-only-kidding-more-than-
I-can-rustle-your-hair-anytime-I-want-to
voice
and I (giggling)
gladly accepting his challenge respond
Yes (uncertain)
YES (taller standing)
with his arm
(yes)
draping around me until the son is gone and I
the tree
faithfully remembers everything
(leaves)
