Over a rocket ship book,
a preschooler I adore
said the sky made the moon
once sunrays smiled
in a big blue hug. I love
her logic. I’m told I’m on
a manhood path, a boy no more
but a child still hunkers
in my heart. Am I worthy
to claim skin in this world?
After a workday
of teaching compassion,
a man cries
on a San Francisco sidewalk
yet my eyes stay clean
from his beggar’s stare
as I walk on
under rainclouds
gathering into a fist.