SCHOOL I love him in his smelly pants and the scared eyes he keeps in his head. I love him crouched at the edge of the playground chalking lines on a flat stone with a soft stone or sitting under a tree watching the other kids running at and away from one another. I love him laying in the grass by the softball field when it's hot and the older boys play with their shirts off and he wonders what makes him keep watching them flash their arms and run. Sometimes he stands by the towering swing set with his hand on the silver-painted pole feeling the shaking and tugs of the big boys when they stand on the wooden seats and grab the chains and use their weight to make the swing speed and go so high he dares himself to keep looking so high it makes his heart leap.