Lee finds himself
thinking he is a ghost,
passing through worlds
he doesn’t understand.
All the clinical coolness
surrounding him is juxtaposed
with the airy ethereal god
figure he had imagined
a figure forced into him
since youth. Since the birth
of his young son he has felt
the surrounding world
to be out of his control.
He soon wondered if it was
his fault, maybe he could
do something. Maybe he
could have kept Lee Sr.
around. Or he could have
controlled his taste for booze.
But he knows now that
he cannot will the world
into being as he would want
it to be. So he grasps
at the laughing air,
telling me, “All the spirals
sail away from me.” I look
him deep into his eyes,
and I understand.
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