He arrives each morning
in his soccer uniform
spiffy-neat and ready.
I am his ride to camp.
 
He sparkles, shower fresh
hair all gel-spiked,
cheeks aglow, sunburst red
from the day before.
 
He giggles and dances,
performing the moves
he is learning. I ask
their names…jiggling,
jitterbug, insider…
he smiles as over and over
he demonstrates.
 
On our ride we talk
of the day’s heat, ways
to protect from its wrath.
He only smiles and says…
I need to get used to it.
I’m going to be a military man
and it gets very hot in Iraq.
 
I think…cram your pockets full,
my sweetie…full of all these
wonders that fill you up now,
then take them out one day
when the world looks wilted
and you are most hungry.


© by Merle Hazard.
Used with the author's permission.