Jeffrey

My friend Ari, who does not have a blog, recently wrote a poem he wanted to share with the world. While the five people who read this blog are not the world, you are readers nonetheless. I asked him to write a little intro, this is what he wrote:

...we all used to be young and full of poems, and now we're adults and teachers and we tend to write essays in our free time. here is the first poem i have penned in years and
years:

"Jeffrey"

Jeffrey.
My mom dated him for years.
And then they broke up.
The years fell forward.
Suddenly, I was seven. Ten. Twelve.
He was around again. They broke up again.
I began to lose count, lose interest.
I was 14. I was 15. I was gone, a freshman in college.

I'd made the football team.
I owned an old station wagon
that I'd bought for 300 dollars.
One morning it wouldn't start, or the morning after that.
Jeffrey will fix it, she said.
He's good with cars, she said.

Then they were calling me from the road,
saying they were two hours outside Santa Barbara.
I was at practice when they first arrived.
I saw them sitting in the stands.
Jeffrey wore a small white hat. A fisherman's.
He always wore that hat.

I could see my mom staring across the field,
scanning for her son.
Her camera resting in her lap.
I was hidden behind my helmet,
my mask identical to everyone else's.

Suddenly, Jeffrey stood and began to slowly jog toward the top of the bleachers.
He moved up the stairs one by one.
The stands were built into the side of a cliff
and he had about 200 hundred to go.
I watched him.

He climbed higher.
He wasn't moving fast, but he was moving.
I watched him.
I watched his hand reach for his small white hat.
I watched him.
I watched him take each stair.
I watched Jeffrey.
I watched him move higher and higher.
I watched until it was time for him to come down.

Show him some love and leave some comments.