The Little Hand

It's 1996
And I am getting good at telling time
I move my chair to face the clock
and Mr. Somea lets me
He knows I'm waiting
For the little hand to reach ten


The other kids are loud
as they cut out sight-reading words
with safety scissors
when where
which word
you yours


They didn't notice how long it took the big hand
to go around once
Feel the sweep of each synthetic jacket sleeve
as Neighbor Ann held one hand, tugged a cuff,
and then the other


Notice how poorly the overhead light
saturated the four colors
posters, cubbies, pencils
red, yellow, blue, green
Or how, by the time the big hand pointed
at the window, the sun took over


They're still loud until lunchtime
And I don't know anything


I don't know if operations
are bloody
Don't know the sound a scalpel makes
if any
when the surgeon cuts into her head
I know other things


That sometimes medicine works
sometimes it doesn't
And when people go away, they don't
always come back the same


Mom can't hear on one side
and sometimes the headaches make her cry
or cringe
and sleep all the time
I know it's a disease and it has a name


Eight months later my vocabulary
includes the word "seizure"
But I don't know what it looks like
When it happens
On the sidewalk across the street from the school


I know I can run really fast up the hill
I'm not sure but I think it's okay to interrupt the office there
to scream,
"My mom fell down"


I know it'll take twenty years
before the sound of sirens won't remind me
of Mr. Somea kneeling down
"What's the matter? What happened?"
and the look on his face as he turned from me
and ran down the hill


It's 1996
And my dad's friend is buying him Mexican food
in the UCSF hospital cafeteria
In 1992, when my brothers were born
Well, I heard the news of Jeff's lung cyst
Made Dad throw up


But I only heard that from Momo
All Dad ever said was he had Carl's Jr that day
In 1989, when I was born
Well, he had a really good turkey sub from Togo's

And he'd known how to tell time for years

Breakfast for Dinner Song

I wanted to tweak the lyrics and melody, add some instrumentation, but I felt like this particular instance of vulnerability was about to expire. I was in a place to enjoy the messiness for its sincerity. So I pushed 'record.' 

Already I'm embarrassed. Already I regret sharing with the close friends I sent it to this morning, but I'm about to make it public.

Why? Because most of them sent back love, and some of them said they cried. Because even if they all hated it, I think I still would have wanted to share it until someone connected. 


Breakfast for Dinner

I never got dressed today
I never showered
I haven't showered in over three days
But it doesn't matter
Because I slept through them
I woke up at 5 PM

Breakfast for dinner for breakfast

I haven't spoken to another human
Well, except for my choir director
He drives for Lyft and he stopped in my neighborhood
He ate some Jack-in-the-Box
He used my bathroom
We took a selfie and he left

That was yesterday
Today he posted a link to an article
On my Facebook wall
It was called something like
"Loneliness Kills"

I never got dressed today
I texted my dad
He wants to know what I want for my birthday
How 'bout insurance?
'Cause I'm turning twenty-six
And I don't know if you've heard
But there's this new study out
And I guess loneliness kills

I never got dressed today
I got dressed yesterday
To get some groceries, and that was big
Both of those days I was lost and found in music

I cried to Edward Sharpe, Emily Kinney
I cried to Sia, and the PS22 Chorus
Of course to Regina, Fiona, Amanda
I hadn't cried in so long

This is the first song that I've ever written
Amanda, I'm sorry, the melody is yours
I used to think that nobody would listen
Most of my poems are about sick parents
And being fat
And who likes that?

But I feel better now
I'm off to shower
I'm glad you got to see the real me
Next time you see me on-time, wearing lipstick
That's also the real me

Thank you for listening
Thank you for seeing me
Music is healing
And now I'm off to eat
Breakfast for breakfast for breakfast


--the melody is not the same as, but definitely bred from, "Gaga Palmer Madonna" by Amanda Palmer. Thanks and love.