Touchpoint

Emerald E.
is tall like a streetlight
on the corner
with squinted eyes
he looks at you
as if
he could take on
the toughest
guys on the block
his pride
wide as all his
thirteen years
hugging thin ankles

but there he is
slouched at a desk
reading the diary
of a girl on the
Oregon Trail
whose grandfather's
dead body
washed down
the Mississippi

the lost fathers
and grandfathers
reaching across the prairie
across the century
piercing through time
to whisper their message

You are not alone.