I can’t stop smiling
when my son lands his side rails.
When a whole room
of boys cheer
for one.
One kid wears a flat billed hat
and jeans so baggy
the pockets form little hummingbird bowls.
Flaring out to the sides
of his adolescent hips.
I can’t stop smiling at the way the cheers are as loud and long
as if a prisoner has been liberated.
The collaboration.
Elaboration of love.
The sound of wheels across a weathered floor.
Pride the shape of sweat droplets
Love the shape of cheeks pushed out forming
joy out of flesh and
bone structure
of a face thirteen years out of a womb.
Rewiring of hate and unacceptance
from hundreds of years of epigenetics of competition.
Synaptic repair in human proximity.
Human connection.
Understanding pain and oddities.
I can’t stop smiling
At the sound of trampoline springs in my backyard.
The dogs barking at a hawk flying across their stretch of sky.
I can’t stop smiling during
dinner-making conversation
from the boy who couldn’t make
eye contact for his first five years,
who struggled to form thoughts into words
who ran away from his class.
I can’t stop smiling when that son sings
at the piano -
his voice unfettered unrestrained
fills my living room
makes me wonder what else is possible.
I can’t stop smiling when I see my girlfriend
from across the grocery store
coming toward me, lingering by the lemons
trying NOT to smile but who can
keep on pushing away what wraps around.
Like the gentle current of ocean water.
What lurks beneath is no match for this.
I can’t stop smiling
when my daughter comes home
from work with a story.
She drops chips and queso on the coffee table.
I pat the couch next to me.
She flops down.
The story rattles out of her
like open mic night.
And she’s the star.
Her red curls frame the butter soft
of her face.
I can’t help but smile.
When the wind blows outside my window
the walls creek and the baby tree
on the other side of the fence
sways this way and that.
Like a woman in love with
her own limbs.
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