my son Ben told me last week that the face
of my new grandbaby—the one he and Liz are expecting in February—
could be revealed in a high tech 3-D ultra-sound
   I've begun to panic
hyper-aware
of just how many faces there are on earth

we're in Boston for only eight days
it's fresh to my eyes 
taking shots of autumn leaves
cemeteries
sensing the history and power 
the great educational bedrock 

2-hour parking everywhere
trains and buses puts us right in the thick of humanity
   first real surge of unease on the Greenline—
seeing the passengers
whizzing by on the other track
I'm suddenly nauseous

not from the movement of the train
but from a single expression I've caught
replaced by another and another 

holding those faces
in a vast mental data bank
like my digital camera
something that needed to commence
right away
before a single image had time to fade 
scared the shit out of me

but not doing it
was like missing the chance for true companionship
witnessing hundreds of instant deaths flowing away from me
knowing a lover/friend was among them

Impossible

what's this about?
I've been to so many cattle calls—
seen so many ostensibly memorable faces
of auditioning hopefuls
drift away down the halls or out the doors
   never had this terror over losing them

Hell, I've been "losing" people for years
every actor does after the show's over
   it didn't seem catastrophic

is this about mortality?  the closer I get
to this kid who's not even born
the closer I myself get to the edge— 

maybe there's something particularly focused
about being a changeling on a stage
I like hiding up there in plain sight 
the anonymity safer
illusions of lives lived
into the darkness
having
who knows what effect
on the vague shapes out there

my son says he'll be glad to meet his baby boy
when the time comes
   No 3-D needed

november 2007

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