The Act of Graduation

Ron Buehler stands before me,
vested, hatted, mustachioed.
He’s pushing 50 and so am I.
We are both completely civil.

When we last shared space I doubt
I was even aware of his presence—
a victim of his oblivion, and my own,
well before the fact of graduation.

    In fifth grade, however—
    the week of Spring Camp—
    I met his eyes as the door
    of a gym locker opened,

    the locker in which I hid.
    His motley gang of six
    was there to find “the runt”
    and “beat him to a pulp.”

    A counselor’s timely rounds
    were my salvation that night.

I look beyond Ron’s graying lip
and into his eyes once more;
they are blue. Does he remember?
Does it matter? After 40 years I

decide it does not. And this afternoon
it is he himself who is my deliverance.

About Greg Wright

I have worn many hats as a writer and editor over the years. Unlike my scholarly and journalistic work from the "old days" at Hollywood Jesus, Past the Popcorn, or SeaTac Blog, the writing here is of a more overtly personal and spiritual nature. I hope it provokes you as much as it provokes me.
This entry was posted in AutoBlography, Other, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

To prove you're a person (not a spam script), type the answer to the math equation shown in the picture. Click on the picture to hear an audio file of the equation.
Click to hear an audio file of the anti-spam equation