Beam and Leanna Will Never Meet

At six, Beam has two ponytails sprouting

from each side of her head just above her ears.

She reminds me of my own daughter Leanna

at that age who ran a steam shovel in an arcade

for three hours, trying to scoop up quarters

and deposit them down a chute.  If I had left

because of money, she would win me home by

money.  It was a joyless game trying to control

the shovel and, of course, the house always wins.

Children, the Arabs say, belong to all of us and

although it may be a cop out for me, I believe it.

Now Beam, with both feet flat on the floor,

hunkers down and hunches over a 7-inch tablet,

playing a game or “do toon”.  She is motionless

and off-center in my twenty-foot-square beautiful

blue tile floor.  She is no higher than a lawn

Gnome and looks like a small, decorative statue

I’ve picked out as my own and plucked off a high

ledge on the façade of the Museum dedicated to

the Accomplishments of Man.  

 FG May 4, 2013

All right reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.

“do toon”  transliteration of the Thai for “watching cartoons.”