Enough Bottle Caps

Focused on chopping onions and garlic,

A quick glance out the Group Home’s

Kitchen window draws me back

To my primary purpose.

I see him at the picnic table,

Leaning forward, reaching out

To shake the hand of his

Invisible co-conspirator.

I cannot hear the words,

But I know their conversation.

And I know that shortly,

35 year old Matt will check in again.

And again, with wide-eyed surprise,

I will repeat “I’m delighted for you!”

As he retells to me his travel plans,

That never change, for the umpteenth time.

“My Dad and I (dead since WWII,

He’ll tell you) are ready to move.

We’ll share a Mental Health Apartment,

With My Case Manager, President Clinton.”

With a broad smile, chest out,

He will announce “We worked hard

And have finally saved enough

Bottle caps to pay for the move.”

I will be happy that he has, yet again,

Reached his goal, (truly, I will).

Then I’ll hand him a stack of

Clean plates saying “Let’s celebrate

with the others in the dining hall.”

Naida Lavon

2007