For My Son On His First Day Of Kindergarten

This thought will probably never
occur to you, but I sat where
you're going to sit tomorrow morning
thirty four years ago to the day:
I sat indian-style
on the floor in the front row,
a red construction paper apple straight-pinned to my shirt,
I looked at it and told Mrs. Johnson my name was Francis,
not Frank

On September 3, 1974
in this place
I got to decide who I was

Where you're going tomorrow I can't come,
you can change your name to whatever you like
and you'll find friends that I won't know
and get crushes on girls that I'll never see
and be happy and sad and proud and hurt
and things will happen to you that you'll forget by the time
I pick you up at the gate at 2:22
but you'll remember them the rest of your life
and they'll be yours and yours alone

And it's okay,
I have the same things
and they're mine and mine alone

I'll share them if you want.