In a crowd at a fair
somewhere behind us,
we called him “fawn,”
tiny and lost
in the chaos
of voices,
colorful hats
and um pah pah
At the age of six
surprising then to hear him
suddenly laugh
from the corner
of a living room
crowded within-laws,
grandfolks,
moms and aunts,
his skinny arms and legs
akimbo
at their bickering
His loud cackling laugh
cuts the chatter,
turns their heads
to see
what’s so damn funny