Gabriel Read Online Free

to sell her house and move
    Into a smaller place without him
    She sent me an e-mail explaining
    That it was just too taxing to live with him
    But he was ready to stay by himself
    And she could check on him weekly
    For one hundred dollars per hour
    They could shop together
    Maybe I shouldn’t go on talking
    About an undertrained overwhelmed
    Unprofessional twenty-eight-year-old
    But on his third night in a new place
    He felt a terrible stabbing pain in his chest
    And walked to the police station in his pajamas
    The ambulance took him to the hospital
    But the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong
    With his heart it was a panic attack
    Laurie and I came up with a plan
    For a system of mentor/companions
    And he never suffered another one again
    I’d like to raise a glass to Cliff
    Bearded social worker mud-man potter
    Who shambled up for an interview
    And worked with Gabriel for two years
    In Amherst no one made more progress
    Gabe condescended to him at first
    Because he was really a hick poor guy
    Only New Yorkers had everything figured out
    And the rest of the world was playing catch-up
    I’d like to raise a glass to Moises and Christa
    The Brazilian psychologist the substitute teacher
    And New Age mother who companioned him
    I’d like to raise a glass to Tim
    Founder of YES
    Who called him
a bright spark of a person
    And taught him the rights of the disabled
    Let’s also save a glass for Melissa
    Who found him three jobs through WEYA
    Summer of Amherst Department of Public Works
    Summer of Meals on Wheels
    And Forbes Public Library in Northampton
    He learned to drive and got his license
    I thought he was too out of control to own
    A car Janet bought him one anyway
    He earned three college credits for a class
    In marketing at Holyoke Community College
    He believed he could sell anything at all
    I’d like to raise a toast to anyone
    Who can convince me there is a world out there
    Where he is selling something to someone
    From the storybook of bluster
    And bad judgment
    From the annals of loneliness
    From the history of kids he met
    On the street in special programs
    It was dangerous to stay in Amherst
    Lord of Misadventure
    I’m scared of rounding him up
    And turning him into a story
    God of Scribbles and Erasures
    I hope he shines through
    Like a Giacometti portrait
    I keep scraping the canvas
    And painting him over again
    But he keeps slipping away
    He was like a spider
    Preyed on by other spiders
    And older insects
    Sweet venom
    His arrivals were swift
    And his departures sudden
    I couldn’t understand how
    He lifted the shower door
    Right off its hinges
    When Gabriel cooked
    The flames rose too high
    And the fire alarm sounded
    When the fire alarm sounded
    He tore it off the wall
    And left the wires dangling
    From the Book of Regrets
    Maybe we should have gone to Tokyo
    We almost visited once
    At the time of the Pokémon craze
    A bunch of kids in Japan suffered
    Epileptic seizures like his
    Maybe we should have tried Edinburgh
    Or Dublin to see if we felt at home
    He decided he was Scots-Irish
    We never heard a nightingale
    Or played cricket on the beach
    Or sang karaoke together
    Maybe we should have kept him home
    From boarding school Janet and I
    Never quit arguing about it
    I should have been calmer
    I should have been more patient
    At least I never whacked him
    Though I wanted to a couple of times
    The only punishment that ever worked
    Was leaving the room
    Maybe we were too hard on him
    Maybe we were too soft
    The therapist recommended
    I kick him out on the street
    I never had the stomach for it
    Maybe I should have forced him
    Into a wilderness program but how
    He would have hated it hated me
    Though maybe he’d be alive
    It was a mistake
    To put her daughter in an orphanage
    During the Moscow famine
    Tsvetaeva realized too late
    It was an error
    That could never be rectified
    And cost her a daughter
    Who starved to death she said
    God punished me
    It was a mistake
    To marry off his darling second
    Daughter