Me, in mental health counseling


Being in residency as a mental health counselor…

I left tonight.

He watched me.

From his second story apartment.

The screen window was open.

He said, “I see you, Miss Jeanine.”

I peered upwards then.

I saw his five-year old innocence 

Looking down at me.

I said, “I’ll see you Billie.”

He said, “See you next time, 

Miss Jeanine.”

I looked upward 

to his preciousness.

Towards the sky.

I said, “Okay.”

It was moments before, 

I had been standing 

in the threshold, 

of his inner city apartment. 

Then he had said, calmly,

“Can you give me a high-five, 

Miss Jeanine,

and a hug?”

His vision 

in my mind.

Not to forget.

His precious face.

“Of course,” I said.

A high-five slap.

Not a slap at all,

with his tenderness.

A hug he gave

while standing,


Pajama pants and white tee.

“Good bye, Miss Jeanine.”

“Good bye, Billie.”

“See you next time, Miss Jeanine.”

“Yes, next time, Billie.”

I love you, Sam.

And the so many next times

that we now

will never have.