...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2SPJdLG-Yg

.

.

.

"... an emergency" she says, histrionically, 

Pulling me from a classroom, mid-instruction,

.

to convene over what I already know.

.

.

"He's tired all the time

Because he lives in a home with users,

They keep him awake,

He's in the sickroom resting."

.

She's acting like this isn't common occurrence

In an attempt to promote the importance of her role.

.

Odd, here I thought she was a 68 year old EA -

She ought to've seen everything by now.

.

.

"Tough one", I say,

With a dramatically sympathetic expression - 

Wrinkled forehead, knitted eyebrows,

Equally histrionic tone -  

.

Before returning to the classroom 

To finish delivering instructions.

.

.

The boy is a sweetheart, rascal, 

Camo sweater, the occasional breakfast stain, 

But there's a wind up key somewhere in his belly 

And every so often, it'll turn 

.

And he'll spring himself into life.

.

I'd been making progress with him, 

And I knew well enough 

What his clothes, his perpetual sleeplessness 

And his propensity towards school prepped meals

.

Said about his home. 

.

.

His parents may well have been patients

In the hospital that my partner oversees.

And I knew the stories, had seen the sights

And could very well connect the dots.

.

.

The odd thing is, a kid like that

In a spot like that, you'd expect them 

To be burdened psychopaths, 

Traumatized, entombed, 

.

Angry and afraid. 

.

But instead, Noah flashes a sheepish grin

Dives into the beanbag chairs

And wants nothing more

But to bend your ear

.

Discussing the nuance of a spartan hoplite

Or the ramming techniques of a quadrireme.

.

Noah might not know the terminology

But he knows that he finds it fascinating.

And I find myself, in turn, at a loss for words

Over the blameless innocence

.

That is the wonderment of a child.

.

.

.