Sometimes I imagine
that the words in my mind
fall into my belly,
swim in my dark, empty insides.
But lately, even the dark places
seem to be filling up with enough light.
My words can’t hide anymore.
I have to go! I have to get back for services and
because if the Giants and A’s win,
they go to the Series.
Malia stands, rubbing her arms,
Blankie over her head like a lion’s mane
as we walk up the hill over to my bike.
What services? Malia asks.
Oh, it’s Yom Kippur, I say. It’s when we think about atonement,
all the bad things we’ve done.
Like a chance to make things right.
Grown-ups have to fast.
I don’t have to. Not yet.
Malia smiles. Sounds kind of nice.
I wave, pedal off.
She yells,
I am NOT drinking the tea!