YouLoveMe

       Darcy and I lived on the second floor, Martha and Robin's place was on the top, The Caniglias were by the front door, The apartment was old.   Things were alop. Is there such a thing as a hidden saint? A beacon of goodness in a fallen world?   Well maybe there is and maybe there ain't. I think Martha was a goddess kept furled. We moved to Newark, to the back of beyond, Darcy and I gave up our New York dreams, Martha helped lift us up from our despond, Painted our new bedroom in tans and creams. Do I wish I could go back to change time? No!  Martha, your life is a perfect rhyme.   

Nineteen sixty three.  In Bob Bradley's yard. With paints he's explaining the color wheel. I'm explaining how bees don't work that hard. I'm giving a little professor spiel. Bob is delicately restoring art, Becky's in the sandbox with dirty knees, Carroll's on the steps, combing in her part, I'm in the grass, trying to trap two bees. Suppose I could go back for just one day. What would I say to the eight-year old me? Would I say that Bob and Billy are gay? Explain what I think it means to be free? Respecting the young me would be my job. I'd stand by my easel.  I would be Bob.