—CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF OF YOU

 

No Joke

 

The kid I used to babysit 

went to an outdoor concert last night 

and mowed down 17. 

3 are supposed to live.

He used to punch me when I watched TV.

Maybe he wanted something. 

Sandwiches sat on the kitchen counter,

juice on the tray.

His folks were actually still in love. 

No joke. They held hands.

They had a poodle named Jetson. 

The pooch had a spot of black fur

just behind his right eye, 

like a well with no bottom.

Once, when I asked the kid if 

he ever read a book, he cackled. 

It felt like he was showing off again. 

Sweat and spit flew everywhere. 

Theatrical. Real Tony Awards stuff. 

The cops on TV speak in tropes. 

Life feels like a trope. 

But I miss that kid, I really do, 

how he used to try to tell me about his dreams, 

even the ones that made no sense,

even those he made up.