Searching for Goffner
Not easy to tell
this story & I do so reluctantly
but I will—I will tell you
about Goffner.
Perhaps my story
isn’t so strange. (An only child
with a far-away look)
Goffner was a blessing,
he was a longing. His eyebrows
were bristly, unruly.
His hair dark,
tangled & curly. He didn’t like
rules & wouldn’t wear an overcoat
& no one could make him
eat avocados.
His body was big—bigger
than mine, but then, I had
no yardstick, no tape measure.
To be with him was a trance,
a levitation. He could be goofy
& crazy & we lived happily until
that awful first day—
(of kindergarten)
when my cruel & thoughtless teacher
found me sitting at the far end
of the rug at story time
& yelled at me—
Move forward!
Why aren’t you moving forward?
I answered— (& since then,
have searched for him—everywhere):
I can’t move forward—
I’ll crush Goffner—
But of course, I did.
