John walks slowly up the stairs
to my office every day. Between
four and four-thirty, after the bus
brings him home from day program
years later jazz, a free communal experience
embodying love, saved me just as poetry saved me
He’s an ex girlfriend’s son
and I’ve known Jesse
since he was five. I decide
not to tell this woman he’s autistic
thinking she can figure it out
if she listens.
I want to book an early
morning flight, drive over
the hills, ride to the rescue
like John Wayne’s cavalry.
…you and Jesse
have a gift. You can both stop time.
He’s autistic and you love the kid,
who’s now a man.
I try
not to think of all the time I spent
going over what went wrong
between us, how badly I missed
who I wanted her to be
no one seemed to accept
or understand I love Jesse,
that the way he will never fit
in the world reminds me of me
I am fulfilling my one holy
purpose helping to make this guy
happy.
I’ll give up and lie,
promise, that yes, his friend
will be back tomorrow.
you rise with the memory
of your first taste of schoolyard
grace and lay it softly against
the backboard
I’m getting to know our recently hired, part-time, two half days a week nurse over morning coffee. She’s thinking about trying to find a group home for her son. I … Continue reading →
“People are so afraid of variety that they try to fit everything into a tiny little box with a specific label,” says 16-year-old Rosie King, who is bold, brash and autistic.
how happy and lucky
it made us feel to know
we had someone we loved
who loved us back
Louis, 8-and-a-half years old, is autistic. He arrives at his new school and is about to introduce himself.