The radio at Saba’s house
Is always turned on
And always blares in Hebrew and never plays music
The television in the living room
Is baseless and fuzzy
Electromagnetic and near-newsworthy
Without nostalgia
I think these might help him forget that
He is connected
To oxygen

There is a photo of him using our computer
Playing cards
On some anonymous website
On the week of my Bar Mitzvah
In Sunnyvale
And there is an ice cream truck
And a children’s song
And there is change being
Loosened up
And a smile between earlobes
And there is lemonade
And watermelon
Vanilla
And a flavor that is named after traffic lights

There are videos of him
But I am too frightened to watch
At least until I believe
That there is strength
Even in vaguest memories
And there is
Battling and coping
Fragility and fracture
Resuscitation and a memory that doesn’t really budge

Because right now I can only say
Those things
Without necessarily believing