First Day

I always liked
crisp September mornings
waking up a full half hour
before the electronic sighs of the clock,

The extra ten minutes
spent just so before the mirror,
father and brother waiting excitedly,
in the warming-up car.

Brother by hand delivered to Kindergarten,
the wet dew of the soccer-field grass
barely noticed as the anticipation mounted,
at the lists just now discernible against
the old building's brick walls.

Would I see Maya's name,
third down from the top as always,
and then find friend Fanny's
a vew spots behind mine?

Would Charles and Benji be arguing,
the merits of summers in Mexico,
absently tossing a football,
at impatient Juan Carlos?

Am I dressed with the right kind of balance
of casual and cool in spite of,
or maybe in thanks to, I don't know,
these new swede shoes brought from Italy?

Is my little brother today scared or nervous,
with a new set of friends, does he like his teacher,
would I...would we...
get the Hungarian for Physics?

But above all would James be there, and would I
get to stare at his sunny blond hair while he sat as always
front of the room, turned blue eyes grinning
to scribble some sum in my notebook?

I always liked,
the suspense and newness.

I always liked
first days of school.