Jim Bertolino

Bobby's Brain

Before Bobby's brain tumor grew
to the size and shape of a castor bean,

he rode his toy motorcycle down the blue roof
onto the barefoot girl in a bathrobe--

where she was on her knees counting ants.
Luckily aspirin and band-aids were available.

The incident was quickly forgotten,
but not before a pastry shaped

like a mule's ear
issued from Sylvia's oven.

Each of us, including our barefoot neighbor,
got a tasty chunk. It was the last time

we were all together. Bobby's virus
changed everything.

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