Mainstreamed

Mainstreamed
1981

First grade
white boards, no chalk
back-to-school night
no walkers or wheel chairs

Thirty students, not ten
My first time meeting 
parents, classmates
Intent on his goal,
Bird drops to the ground
lurches his way
on hands and knees
turns, waves me 
to his desk

Their eyes 
Your kid is weird.
One weak smile
no conversation
A crowded room
where space surrounds us
Our lone galaxy
spinning 
toward a black hole