He calls my name and, initially, I don’t hear him –
but I hear him the second time he says it
I’m sitting on the edge of the pool with my legs in the water listening to music
and he sits beside me
He is adorable, like 7-week-old puppies when they roll around playfully on the floor
“How was your day?”, he asks – and I know he really cares about my answer
So, I tell him
He makes me feel things – I didn’t feel things – and then I met him -
and he makes me feel things
And I’m afraid I’ll miss an appropriate emotion or response because I don’t understand them (yet) -
he says he’ll work with me on that
And I think I’m feeling love, but I don’t know what that means (exactly)
He reads (aloud) a poem of mine at our party – with our friends – it’s 8 of us
…and he smiles while he reads it – though my words are sad – he smiles because I make him happy – and he tells me this -
I make him happy – and I don’t exactly understand how –
my inadequacies fill the room like bad wallpaper – and he doesn’t see them
He smiles at me from across the room – and I think he must be magic –
a practitioner of the magical arts -
because I’ve been a sad boy for decades and I’m not sad right now –
and this is new to me and I don't yet know how to process these new feelings
The party ends and it’s just the two of us in the room – and I become nervous
His semi-muscular arms (because he occasionally goes to the gym – and I absolutely do not), from behind, wrap around me –
and he’s not serpentine – he’s trying to love me – not kill me
He calls my name – and I respond
Because it’s the most important thing I’ve done – ever, in my life
And his name escapes my lips (and I say his name lovingly – as I understand love) –
and never have I meant something more
Photo: Jimmy Broccoli with Caesar, the Therapy Bunny Rabbit
