WEEK 35

I just want you to know
that little sign Levi did?
When he saw you at the door?
The swoopy thing?
With his tiny pinkie?
That looks like a J ?
It means juice
not James.
There’s no way he would sign
James
before he’d sign
brother.
No way.

That phone call.
That phone call.
That phone call.
Mrs. B is worried about me.
The lines between her eyebrows are deep.
She crosses her arms over her chest
which wrinkles her shirt
without her noticing.
But I notice.
I feel kind of important
to worry Mrs. B so much
that she doesn’t notice wrinkles.

How are you?
OK.
Really?
Not really.
I’m sorry.
Don’t say that.
I’m sorry for being sorry.
Don’t be a dork.
You’re a dork.
Isa and I can have a whole conversation with just
our eyes.
We’re like superheroes.
Very quiet superheroes.
With very giant eyes.

If I stole his Xbox,
if I tattooed Dork on his forehead,
if I superglued his hands to his butt,
if I renamed him Shorty McDingDong,
if I ate his guinea pig,
none of these things would make José as mad as
me admitting I like Isa.

P.S. I’m not admitting anything.
I’m just thinking
out loud
in this journal
right now
so
shhhh.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
how does your garden grow?
With squinty eyes
and big loud sighs
and nursing notes all in a row.