His tiny, gentle hands
still containing his baby plumpness
are usually sticky with dirt or a posicle,
either digging through a sandbox
reaching for food to fill his bottomless tummy
or holding onto my hand.
He does each in his backyard,
dragging me along through
the different places in his backyard is,
like seeing a beach on Kaui,
the grassy plains of New Zealand,
and the techy streets of Japan.
Feeling his sticky palm in mine,
I wonder, Why is he taking me everywhere?
Does he know something I don’t?
His cherub like face looks intently
at my own as he drags me down.
His hands have captured
my face as he says
Well, you’re my best buddy.
As if its the most obvious thing ever.
Come with me, he says,
and he grabs my hand once more.
