To Jim Holtz

   Marie had one crossed eye ..... and mousy hair,

   A bit thick-waisted, but a pleasant air ....

   Nice skin. Cast-off, forgotten mannequin                                 

   Held up by scars like wires, deep within.

   She knew how life’s inviting roads lead on

   Through hostile woods to hostile waiting towns.

   She did not flinch. 

   Small, rounded chin, set straight ahead, 

   An open-shy, tough-fragile, teenage girl.

   She ran her boyfriend, Jason, from

   the time they were fourteen,

   the gangly, gawky, sleepy Jason-type,

   by Nature, hand-designed and built           

   to be a life-long little boy.

   Most kids in old GESS      

   exiled them out to Loserville.                         

    One rainy Tuesday morning class,

    A project for their Drama 10:

    Old Holtzie helped them make a script,                

    that stumbled like a beaten dog,

    into a scene just credible;

    girl loses boy ... yes, trite ... but then,

    they did it for their yawning peers.

            

    And something in the eye-net ... caught

    and Feeling crept into the room ... 

    through some door someone left unlocked,

    and Jen and Liz and Ryan Sloan         

    began ... all unaware ... to watch.

            

    Then softly add the skids in class,

    then preps ... then everyone ... as one.

           

    ("What, Jason! Whoa! Marie!" he thought.

      "Where is this suffering coming from?!")

    Even the walls looked in ... and hushed;

    two minutes, maybe, at the end .... 

    the heartbreak happened, real as breath,

            

    and God Almighty, yes...

    in shining tears

    on stage

    alone

    she was ...

   beautiful ....

   That was poetry, Jim; that was your making.

   A waif hardly aware, a young heart waking,

   Saw, past the stage, a place where souls just are;

   She stepped across ... reached up ... and touched a star.