A Personal Note from my friend Stan

Received this recently from my friend Stan. The stream of consciousness style is usually not to my personal taste, yet this has power and heart and he asked me to post it here, for which I am greatful.

It is titled: Unerring Hearts at 14

My beautiful and bright Leah.
Be bright! Vote for Goodman.
Smack in love at first sight.
A wonderful smart discerning love.
Our meeting a perfect image.
Our unerring hearts given in that moment.
Who knew? Me, She, Us, Them, All?
Yes! Proud of our unerring hearts!


Each day, each afternoon our math class.

Jammed-close rows of school desks.
We, desk-front to chair-back.

Awakening moment by shared moment.
Her rich earth brown hair flipping and curling.
Her back, neck, and shoulders.
So close to my fingertips and nose.
Her sweet smell, smart eye, and voice.
Quick and ready her smile and laugh.
Every inconceivably precious afternoon.
I worked hard to reach that chair at her back
and she knew it.
Again proud of our discerning hearts.

Incredibly! In her home. Invited one day.
Mom, Brothers, a TV, hooked rugs, eating dinner.
Leah's canopy bed and pillow glimpsed
As mom gathered up a night gown.
Protecting innocent gaze and modesty.

Left together in her bedroom.
Why? To find a book.
Saved at the foot of her bed
Kneeling to the bottom shelf.
She selected with care and speed.
Rising up before me now
face to face she opened it.
bowed to read to me.
I listened entranced
by the top of her head.

Oh! lets walk outside.
We need air and sun.
Orange trees in rows.
Opaque green leaves
fat jewels in drooping bracelets
draping leafy arms
spreading before us.
Accolades of light
splash our shoes and faces.
Side by side almost touching
sometimes bushing sweetly.
We floated from step to step
in lush summer grass.
You could be a radiologist!
She told me.
Oh! dear young woman.
Oh! dear young man.
It's your soul's wedding day.
No other to be.

Soon came that hateful spell
cast upon us, unexpectedly lasting.
Having a strange sickening durability.
Again and again coursed apart
The years of cursed elusiveness.
She in some other place.
Some unreachable distant life
fully involved and committed.

And now, incredibly,
I find her insane and alone,
living not miles away.
Where she is perfectly safe
from my gentile kisses.

Damn those who feared me
and my molecular genetics.
(Gee Dr. Goodman, I’ll change that right away!)
Why were those people,
that circle of adults so brutal?
Was our innocence so horrifying?
Is cruelty in short supply?

Oh, how they feared and talked.
No-one told this young man about hate.