The Shop

On the way down to the shop,

I notice there are still

so many cracks in the concrete,

bits of glass

along the side of the road,

but things are getting better

little by little.

I drop invitations to Mr. Dimitri

and Mr. Cohen and Mrs. Li.

 

 

In the shop

my grandfather is cleaning

his tools, wiping them

with an old rag

that smells like castor oil.

 

 

Grandpa, I need to show you something.

I pull out the bareket,

hold it in the center of my palm.

I thought it was lost?

We found it.

Well, sort of.

It kind of found us?

He smiles.

Life is a mystery, isn’t it?

You think you know everything,

but it’s mystery that makes us human.

That forest you go to, this stone,

all the way back to the Calypso,

the Dead Sea,

Prague,

and even before that.

Don’t forget what this feels like.

Don’t ever lose your sense of wonder.

He squeezes my shoulders with his giant hands

like he’s pressing the words into me.

Then, all at once, I put my hands

on his shoulders and squeeze right back.