Foster Parents…(to Steve and Melissa)

we used to stay up late listenin’ to cars drive by…said you could tell what kind of vehicle it was by the sound of the engine…sedans…pickup trucks…convertibles…motorcycles…old beat-up junkers…some game you played…don’t think you knew…think you just made it all up as you went along…

we’d keep track of the cars and trucks…semis…motorbikes on a sheet of yellow paper marked off in columns…get to five sticks and cross ’em out like a prisoner does days remaining…stay-up most of the night countin’…till ‘ventually I’d fall asleep…that was the goal…

and I’d have these dreams ’bout you…that you were holdin’ onto me…keepin’ me safe from some kinda monster behind the closet door…a green monster with bulging eyes and a hideous laugh…you held me with one hand and had a sword in the other…fightin’ off this demon…didn’t know what it was…some kinda mythical troll…you kept it at bay…

you’d fix me breakfast in the mornin’…big thick slices of French toast with maple syrup…bottle in the shape of a woman…used to hold her with both hands by the waist and pour till half the bottle was empty…you’d just smile…told me…,This is America…we’ll make more…

all day long at school I’d wait to see you again…looked forward to your hugs…kiss on the forehead…havin’ you read to me from big books with colorful pictures…Where The Wild Things Are…

and like Max in the book I felt safe after an adventure…to be tucked away in bed…pajamas on…lights dimmed…ready to count cars again…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s