Smitten, hearts of passion greet

Reseda's child at Bel Air's feet

By birthright, two who could not be

Two others came and made them three

Older, younger, wanting not

The three a disparate family lot

Lawyer, soldier, father, tot

A negative cutter, fearing a lot

*      *     * 
 

Suburban and sunny, a flat open landscape

To fly model airplanes, play baseball and translate

The millions of mysteries, laconic and foreign

Which play themselves out from the moment we're born

Other kids found their foundations of stone

Confident minds in their flesh and their bones

A skinny kid lacking some measure of trust

Felt different, and silly, and wimpy, and "just"

Hesby Street School lay a half-world away

Just 'round the corner, school's open today

His green dirt bike ridden with frozen, clenched hands

Its knobby tires eagerly swallowing land

The schoolrooms there quite specifically smelled

Of dust, and of coats, and of books, worn-in well

Quick!  Sniff the purple-print mimeographs!

The turtle tank, opened, the musical staff

From blocks to spelling, juice to pop

Then racing home, tired, to cold pudding cups

Ritalin pills and an earned "class clown" title

His excitement and energy too high to bridle

Then grades began falling, and schools were discussed

So transfer here, transfer there, transfer he must

In process, uprooted his friendships, though golden

Which left hollow feelings, like something was stolen

*      *      *

          Though not the first blush, his angst was then real

          And one shrink, then others, conscripted to heal

          His birth parents unknown, his aging new loved ones

          What a strange, simple mystery to float high above one