Birth Days -

I recall
The Kid.

I remember
when I was told
of his coming; a chill
fall night in Vermont -
the night I
forgot how to walk.

I recall
them bringing
him home all squally
and wrapped in white.

I remember
a ladies man
from the start -
a joy to mothers,
grand and not,
excitement of sisters.

And I
remember a hot June
afternoon; your visit
in the place I tried
calling home.

I recall
a bundle of excitement
attaching itself to an arm
like a burdock
of the northern woods, loving
to fly tossed
to the couch.

I remember
The Kid, boogying
like Jackson
in a church apartment,
sitting on my lap
at weddings, sitting
on my couch watching
as I swallowed
an endless glass
of whiskey,
and I recall
many other
things.

I remember
welcoming him
into my home, I recall
the night I kicked
The Kid out.

I remember
thinking how I
would never know
The Kid for the years
between us - and the kid
morphing
into The Man
on that fateful road trip
across the backbone
of a continent.

And I recall
those who came
between us through time,
how they faded
and we a still stand -
pillars
on opposite edges
of this land.

I remember.
Twenty-three
years and I recall
from this moment
back to the night
they brought you home -
all squally
and wrapped in white

I remember.
Happy birth day -

Kid.

_{(GJV, 05-20-2010)}