Richard cut school
At fifteen.
I was only six;
Didn’t give it a thought
Just listened.
His girl of-the-day
Played ‘Mom’
Making the call;
Said Richard had the flu.
Fifty years later
At death’s door,
He still read
Like a second grader—
The best he could do.
He was proud
That he graduated
From high school.

Jason didn’t do his homework
Or attend college.
He turned down regular jobs
For parties and fun:
Raves at night;
Disneyland by day.
Working tables, he sang
At the Macaroni Grill.
The last I heard,
He was a waiter
At thirty,
A transient worker
Losing a job in a Las Vegas hotel
To start another in the Northwest.
Regretting the time he was late
For the interview
At the Cheese-factory.

When tornadoes hit the Midwest
Ravaging towns,
Wrecking lives.
Killing a few
And a levee in New Orleans
Breaks
Flooding a city
Driving people out
Leaving vibrant neighborhoods empty
And dangerous,
The victims could join the merchant marines
Sailing to foreign ports
Like Myanmar
In search of other tragedies—
Reminders that we are not alone
In our suffering
While American soldiers
Fight wars in Iraq
and Afghanistan.