Poolside

Her left leg was missing, but that didn’t stop
her from teaching two boys how to swim.
Always the first one to jump in and 
call out joyfully for the rest to 
join. I am quite certain there 
has never been a day when
being in the pool made 
me unhappy. Singing 
was breathing. So if
you see that kooky 
kid with arms 
wide to the 
sun,
tip-toeing 
and belting 
“Give me one 
day out there!” while 
the rest diligently kick 
and stroke through laps, you’ll
know that that’s the Mirabal’s boy.
Everyone in the NE Portland Fred Meyer
knew the Mirabal’s boy. Round cheeked, a
smile wider than the biggest number someone
ever counted to. I’m now keeping my beard
buzzcut because I’m happiest when my 
bronze olive melanin complexion
is showing. So many smile 
crinkles. I don’t give a 
damn. Life is pure
joy here.

“Grandma Anne, I know you can’t bear to part with it, so please duplicate that photo of Mom and I in the yellow tube of that NE Portland McDonald’s
playstructure. The one next to the ball pit, where we went to when there were parades.

It would mean more than the world and all the worlds ever to me.”

SM.