Burst of Happiness

by Bianca Ambrosino

I was an anxious child. Especially at night.
I couldn’t sleep in the dread alone, so I
stayed awake. Thinking about not looking
for monsters under the bed.

I felt shut out of everything. I felt
the locked doors. I sent out my signal, but
no one monitored my frequency. They just
skipped over the static, tuned out of me and
into some bell clear station not on my dial.

So,
I was worried for my son. Worried that
he would feel x x x x x x x x how I felt:
(unviable, disconnected, misfit, dejected, split
open, rejected, bored, neglected, ignored)
x x x x x x x x  burdensome.

Launch of
imitation-fail-human part 2: the ‘what do I do
with my hands while I walk in front of people?’
legacy model.

But,
he is so happy it’s suspicious. A basket of love
overfilled with joy for everything. Pieces fall out
when he moves. They land on my shoulder,

“Mom. I’ve got a sudden burst of happiness!”
Eeeeeeeeee!

Fists shake. Smile seams burst. Split tooth zipper
can’t hold in the glee of that boy, the joy. He leaks
into the atmosphere.

I hope he finds people with sunglasses. So they
can see him through the glare of enthusiasm and
relax into it with him.

I hope I remember to put mine on. I sure do love
the sunshine. Even when it hurts my eyes.
Even when I stay in it too long and I get a smile
burn on my cheeks. Even when it makes me tired
and I seek shade.

Even at night.

Bianca Ambrosino is a somewhat reclusive poet from Richmond, Virginia. Her unique, Autistic perspective illuminates universal themes with startling connections and vivid synesthesia. She spends her time writing, walking outdoors, raising her children, and reading countless academic papers/ scientific publications (for fun).