I’m sitting in an elevated lecture hall,
built on brick city cinderblock high-rise.
I look to my right, through
Two layers of windows
Rising brick upper apartment building
There’s a studio room, with folding black chairs
A sparse room with photos on clothespins
There’s a family there, framed
by the window
A father, a mother, a boy.
The boy is a ghostly (shining) flicker
Who moves like a flash in the corner of my eye
Blue shirt, round face, strong short legs
He is running and jumping,
his father is sitting,
they move in an unchoreographed way.
I wonder if they see me seeing,
or if they notice the staring students I’m with.
They are still young, still handsome
The mother with sleek asian features, pearl earrings
Perfect black turtleneck, white smile.
I wonder if this is their home.
Next door (the same room?) is an office.
They disappear, is this where they go?
Young boy, crawling on desk-chair.
I think there’s a wall between them.
The group gets up,
On their Monday morning
The boy runs the length of the room.
They are peaceful and interesting and after they’ve gone
I miss them,
(Wait for them to come back)
want them to return.