Jake
It’s been like this all my
life.
Surrounded by people
who chatter like ducks.
My words are in my head,
but I can’t get them out.
They say I have autism.
They talk to me,
but only a few of my words
have come out
in nearly thirty years.
So I express myself with
my IPAD.
But I can also get my
message across without it.
I have signs for yes and
no.
I have sounds when I’m not
happy.
I have humming and buzzy
sounds
as I run up and down the
hallway
telling myself stories.
I listen and do what they
say.
I stroke a person’s face
if I like them.
I ignore them if I don’t.
Some call me “little Jake”
like I’m a baby.
Some shout as if I can’t
hear.
Some treat me like I’m 29,
my age.
I like them the best.
Someday, my words might unstick,
but until that miracle
happens,
I’ll be content watching
my movies at home
and “Santa Claus is Coming
to Town”
when I’m at Connie’s
house,
five minutes at a time, over
and over.
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