DS-3050

by BRETT HAYMAKER, Contributing Editor

We showed up 3 minutes late to the passport
appointment 
I made for my daughters and the woman behind
the counter—
the only one—reminded me a bit of Monica
Hand
who so tirelessly worked here for 40 years to
support her grandchild—
she said, Haymaker? and I nodded and she
waved us over 
and she inspected my papers both with
unwavering attention to detail and with grace
she asked for photo copies of our driver’s license
which I of course 
did not have and she said, They get upset when
I do this
but I’ll walk back and use our copy machine
for you
and my daughter—my oldest—stuck her face
inside the car
seat of my youngest—like right in there—like not
even an inch of space
between their eyes and all I can think about when
the woman returns 
with the photo copies is how that’s exactly where
they shot Renee
and in the same world, this woman behind the
counter is laughing
at my daughter clinging to my neck and just
offered us so much grace 
in this same world that requires these passports
“that only last 5 years”
when they’re under 18, she tells us, and I think
about if Renee’s son got his
and how when he goes to get one—if ever—he’ll
need to fill out the form 
the one you need when your parents cannot be
there to say you are theirs
the one that says at the top right corner
Estimated Burden: 20 minutes
a detail required by the Paperwork Reduction
Act I wonder 
what he will check—legal parent / legal
guardian / third party I think 
about Renee’s son and Monica’s grandbaby,
and how maybe, in this world
filled with hate and grace, in some strange twist,
they meet 
at church—a party—or maybe they even become
a family 
of their own the way that poets live
on so beautifully after they are dead