all the animals at the zoo have ponds

after a long letter to her grandmother about this, that, and the other thing, a ten-year-old writes,
“p.s. you are a miracle woman”

it seems like everyone is either leaving or being left–but it has had no effect on my fragile state.
cheers?

it’s only wednesday?

aqua tad I
holding closely
towing front
towing back
and kicking.
gutter exploration
spitting humming blowing
bubbles bobbing pancake turns
and listening to water.
horizontal glides
fast tummy tows
with splah entries
and monkeying.
a pocketful of dreams
eighteen months and counting
moments in the rocker
and a bus ride downtown.

“you know what i was kind of hoping? that the rapture would happen. like right now. not because i’m going anywhere, but because my parents are good christians, so they’ll be in heaven rather than here on earth, killing me.”
“anna, if i was stuck on a deserted island, i’d want to be there with you. for a couple reasons. first, you don’t annoy me. i think you’re the only person in the whole world who doesn’t annoy me…and i might annoy you, but at least you pretend i don’t. also, you’re a really good listener…but mostly, you’re smart and responsible, so i’d probably stay alive a lot longer.”

Thank you for your letter. Sounds like you are busy–especially with all the language studies you’re into. But, why don’t you study a real language–Italian? Then when we go to an Italian joint you can do the ordering for all of us not too smart ones.
I was married to an Italian and therby was exposed to many aunts and uncles that spoke the language. Course, I only learned a couple of Italian words. Probably “cuss ones” at that.
Haven’t been doing much down here. Now and then, if my back will cooperate, I go over to the ocean and walk along the boardwalk. Mostly I look at all the pretty girls. Sometimes I go down to the inlet and watch the boats going in and out of the ocean. Watch the gils there too. For the most part I’m just sitting around and reading sexy novels.
Will be leaving in a couple of weeks. My nieces want me to stay for Easter but I think I’ll leave April 1st.
Want to get back home now and make some real meat tomato sauce. If you guys can “find the time” we’ll have some pasta, OK??
Be seeing you.
Love,
John

eight year olds on jungle gyms

whalewatching
we celebrated my cousin’s third birthday at the zoo. i love watching the whales and monkeys. i’m learning to move as the animals do. i remember the day i found my toes–i can still harldy believe they were there all along. as it happens, i am something. i see whales, and the whales see me. i am connected. i control these–these parts. i touch my toes, and i feel it. the big one fits perfectly into my grubby fist.
the fence is a great way for me to get up and around. i learn more everyday. papa practices the stairs with me at night. he looks funny in his suit and tie. he must be jealous of my soft flannel pajammas. he works awfully hard. i will thank him by helping him untangle the christmas tree lights.

waiting for iffin
a package of value
will arrive soon
branches anticipate
our good fortune
sing her a song
of the rainbow
whisper all the joy.
from hers to ours
she emerges
seven pounds
fourteen ounces
sunlit
beautiful
sweetly smelling
new life.

if i were to write you a letter, i’d write it in black ink. i’d use the pen i can never seem to find–the one whose mark is just bold enough to tell my story, but just thin enough to be unobtrusive. the paper would be heavy–not stiff, but substantial, nonetheless. it would probably be a bit smudged, for a variety of reasons, and i’d probably send it to you in a recycled envelope. you’d open it and smile. you’d sit on the curbside and read it at the mailbox.
i’d write you the most beautiful letter in the world. i’d use words that match your eyes–everything painted a pale blue with a hint of sadness behind a resevoir of love and kindness. my greeting would reach your ears like a symphony…but you’d know to listen carefully for my greatest secret, which would undoubtedly be revealed when everyone else had lost interest. you’d hear me when everyone had stopped listening.
i’d write something incredible about your heart. i’d tell you how much you mean to me and why i admire you so. i’d struggle through a few german phrases just because i know you’d read the letter aloud to oma, and your german is so beautiful to listen to.
i’d want to be there when you read it. i’d watch you watch me speak through the evenelope, the dark ink, and the heavy paper. i’d make it a black and white memory instead of just a dream.
(if i were to write you a letter)