Mike

We met in junior high. I couldn’t stomach the daily insulin needles he plunged into his thigh. We were great pals until we weren’t. Something silly like the way he embarrassingly yelled to me, “Hey Bomber” as he galloped down the field at jv football practice, his knee pads and shoulder pads flapping and falling out of his too-large uniform. 

After his father’s car was run over by a train at a poorly marked crossing, he and his mother and sister moved back to Florida near family. 

Decades later I googled to find him, to catch up, to apologize for growing apart. Too late, I learned Mike attended Stetson University and went on to teach English there, becoming their distinguished teacher of the year many times. He married, had children and died from progressive diabetes.  

hobbling onto his desk

no legs to jump nor sight to see

 in praise of good writing

 Dignity

tea ceremony

peaceful and forgiving

bitter taste of regret

The end of Roy Kaneshiki’s life was socially distanced and later quarantined. Much like the first four years of his life at Topaz internment camp in the Utah desert. 

dry inland sea

small figures search

seashells in the sun

Regardless, later as a young man Roy enlisted in the U.S. army, and always wanted a military funeral with a real bugle "Taps" (not one of those recorded versions). None of that was possible.

evening news report:

quarantined boy plays “Taps” each sunset; 

maybe Roy can hear.