top of page



From a distance, I see my son

on the quad with his friends.

Five or six teenaged boys

move in an amoeba-like cluster,

molecules of gas in a glass chamber.

They bump against one another 

and the invisible wall 

that confines them.

In the group, my son stands out – 

my eyes are still adjusting 

to his new long form 

but he is familiar, nonetheless.

He is laughing, with his head back 

as he runs and pivots.

Now he has a red bouncy ball in his hands

which he launches, 

setting off a chain reaction of kinetic energy.

The molecules dance and spread

then mysteriously come back together

in a seemingly choreographed 

magnetic sequence.


I walk across the tree-lined quad

to my car, purse pinched between

arm and ribcage,

unseen by my son,

utterly incomprehensible

to the vibrant, necessary 

motions of adolescence.

bottom of page