Ode to My Son
Quick and clever and easily
the funniest person I know,
I delight in you when you
arch your eyebrows, cock
your head sideways, and
observe just how absurd we
all are. You have a charming
way of laying out the facts,
of never letting anything
seem so serious, so essential
it merits an angry response.
I like how you live your life
so imprecisely, how you
seem to paint with a sloppy
brush, how you smile and
open your eyes wide at the
ironies, the small human
delights, and I like the
impressionistic distances
you create, blurring over
the things I find rigid and
delineated, softening your
focus until even sharp edges
and dark storm fronts are
only shading in a broader
picture. All your life, you
have caused me to cheer for
your unfocusing, for your
power to remain undefined.
In you, I see the warmest
impulse, the healing brush,
the impossible wisdom of
perspective, the exception to
all the unconscionable rules.
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