But the son and call-him-Al actually did get back and make it to class on
Monday
Está comiendo mi coco she phoned the friend
who had picked him up at the station
who had never heard the expression she was so pleased with herself for using
from a dated phrase This phrase is never used in Mexico her friend assured
He is still eating my head
If you give your fears a shape her friend suggested
you break free of them This was before the bad diagnosis
After she is assured he is back from the sea
she concedes He is going to be OK He'll make his way
Recalls a woman she met at the women's prison the literacy teacher
(not an inmate) who had several ex-husbands under her belt
and had one son (not by the federal judge) (that husband didn't hunt)
but by the one who sold indigenous rugs the son from that marriage
A very fastidious boy always in the shower always changing
from one white shirt into another she worried about him
she came in the house one day and smelled squirrel
He swerved he said but still hit it he thought it would be a pity
to leave in the road so he brought it home skinned and rubbed
its still soft body down with oil and rosemary stuck it in the broiler
He'll be OK she thought this fastidious son He'll make his way
During the time she knew he was on a bus without a wallet she knew
this much
because he left a message on her machine hurtling as Mexican buses tend
to go
she could only say Está comiendo mi coco He is eating my head
He was gone
Rising, Falling, Hovering
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