a little bit ticklish

What kind of man is he, this friend of yours, that we may admire him?

Well, he's a story-teller, first and foremost.

He's a learner, so he's a teacher.
And he's a little bit ticklish.
I keep trying to avoid it, but he's made of the stuff.

He is funny and silly and serious.
He is quiet and merciful and brave.
He surprises me with what comes out of his mouth.
That is, when I am listening long enough.

An excellent game player, and that's a fact.
Careful and precise and mindful.
More competitive than he lets on.
Learning is as important as winning, and more.

He texted me this morning asking if we could be pirates.
Of course my answer was yes, and when.
What do we need, did I have to lose an eye or leg?
He suggested we start tonight, which settled it.

One of the handiest men I know.
Like an un-flanneled Al Borland, with glasses.
Fixed the light switch box in my parents' basement,
Eradicated a mouse from my kitchen drawer.

Unsentimentally, I can tell you that he cries.
He cries for himself, for his own pain, and for others.
He cries in real time, and when it matters.
I believe in his connection to life and death, and the other.

I guess it's a little bit ticklish.

miss january

Hanging on your wall, downstairs in your basement room, or perhaps still in your backpack, or on your desk, in a pile and a flurry of other things, is the calendar that my dad made for you for Christmas 2013.  

I wonder if you will hang it up, or if you will keep it someplace private and quiet.  I wonder how often you will look at it, and how you will feel when you see the pictures.  I wonder who else you will tell about it.  

*(My dad gave my boyfriend a calendar full of pictures from me.  As he opened it, he wouldn't show it to me at first, and I assumed the worst-- embarrassing childhood photos. But no, it was nicely done, with pretty quotations and recent photographs.  What a sweet gesture.)

Is it not good news?  Is not all good news so personal, a father saying, "Look, this is my daughter.  Is she not lovely?"  

I told you that it felt like a twelve-month lease.  You laughed because you couldn't help it, you were shocked into explosion.  I always like it when that happens.  I like seeing your insides out, a truth you can't help telling.