Standing over the stove
You cook 10 burgers on 4 different pans
Flipping constantly the still-defrosting patties
I tell you “Dude, you know
You don’t have to flip them so much.
It’s actually better if you wait a bit.”
You nod slowly, as if you had heard something very wise.
A couple of days before, I ran into you on the road.
You were surprised to see me happy to see you.
“I haven’t been going to school”
“I’ve noticed”
You explained that you’ve been missing school
Because you were afraid
That I would be angry at you for missing school.
It had been months since our class had gone for a walk
Out onto the land, to the Inukshuk.
Most of the boys cut out
To go to the stores
But you stayed with us
Or, more accurately, walked out ahead of us
Leading the way with my dog
The two of you always waiting
At the top of the next hill. Sitting
Side by side.
When you came back to school you went straight to the counselor.
You had not eaten in days.
After school I pulled you aside
And asked you if you wanted to make yourself a burger.
You asked if you could make one for someone else too.
“As many as you’d like”
You went around the school asking everybody who was still around.
Now you’re standing over the stove
Waiting for those burgers to be ready to be flipped
You tell me, “the passion is in the patience”
I nod slowly, as if I had heard something very wise.