He Lets Me Call Him Jim Poem by Delilah Miller

I've got no other reason to love him,
other than...
He
lets
me!
Always, and signs his notes Jim,
the only straight writing
out of the whole wayward page.

He puts on jazz,
laughing like it rains,
and lets me dance and hold out my hand.
The times he takes it,
the extra thirty -six years of his life
sniff their worthlessness,
and walk out the door
envying me, growling at me and him;
he is seventeen
all
over
again.
And I,
I am an eternal surprise to Jim.
My skin is still tight,
but I won't say silly things
and I'll ask him
to borrow just one more book...
And he rewards me
with that cascading laugh,
when I catch pure Jim
sneaking a look.