they don't know who they are
and they never will.
I don't even remember most of their names:

the older couple around the block
that offered me leftover birthday cake
and a joke or two
on an otherwise abominable day;

the teacher whose name still escapes me
who made me feel smart;

the older boy who whistled at me
despite my crooked teeth and gawky limbs;

they saved my life
in tiny increments

pulled me back
just far enough
so I could hang on a little longer

instead of letting that
adolescent gravity
suck me into the blackest pit.

the thing is, though,
when someone offers you a hand,
you have to give it back when you're done with it.

so
in my middle years
I look for opportunities

to make a kid feel smart;
to flirt with old men;
to offer birthday cake and a smile;

to save a little life from time to time.

08/03/2007

Posted on 08/04/2007
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