In the end I decided to meet you
In the same place I found you
A waiting room near bridgewater

I squeeze myself into the Fisher-Price
Playhouse
And wedge myself into the picnic table alcove
Has your life always been this small?

You were Thing One
He was Thing Two
And you whirled in
Nonstop noise

Your first foster mother
Expressed infinite relief
In the space around her eyes
At the imminent prospect of
Handing all 200% of you
To me

I am handing it back.

But since 95% has been
Yours for years now

I give you all that is left:

An expression about turtles and hope
A song about going to town
All the way to town
A pocketful of french fries of indeterminate age and origin

And telling the truth on the one day it mattered.