A Bar Mitzvah or How to Read the Torah while Holding Your LaCrosse Stick

he entered from a door in the back of the hall,
strutting between rows of folding chairs
towards the stage, his stage,
swinging his lacrosse stick as if
having just scored the final goal.
As atomic fireballs of “sweetness”
pummeled him from all sides,
he picked up the pace, from a trot
to a full gallop towards the front of
the hall, picking up spent ammo as
he went, then turning 180 to return
enthusiastic fire.
Claiming victory, he settled
into the task at hand, singing the Torah.
Yes, his voice skipped between octaves
a few times, and his new prayer shawl
slipped off his still slim shoulders;
he corrected the rabbi about his sport of choice,
she reminded him to put down his bottle
of water when she was talking to him.
somewhere in the mix of the reading of
the Torah, the launching of atomic fireballs,
the gift and blessing of the prayer shawl,
a dangerously swinging lacrosse stick
and elderly relatives going on and off stage,
this boy, a bundle of nervous energy, of big smiles,
crossed a threshold and began that process
of becoming a man.