Yes he is. That little squirt of a boy.
Number 5,trampled by the Chef, crowded out by the Professor’s ever ready and adorable smile,and getting head banged by Eggs whenever she could get a lick in.
That little clever handed tyke. Always doing something suspicious. Taking something apart, investigating wires and loops of electronics and never mischevious just so curious.
I think he was born with a pliers in one hand and a small pocket knife in the other.
Probably cut his own umbilical cord.
Now a young man.
Rocking and rolling and figuring out the world around him the same way he did as a tot.
One step at a time.
Thoughtful and unhurried,
methodical and mostly positive.
When he gets ready for work he’s in jeans and a black tee.
Aviator sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low.
A dark shadow over his unshaven 22 year old face.
Smokes a cigarette before he heads out,
and pockets a switchblade.
I have to laugh to myself.
You look like the unibomber darling.
My heart warms to see the little boy,
still inside him.
He’s a surprise,
he’s smart and funny,
and scary as hell.
No one bothers Bart.
That’s why he can do what he does.
He’s the oil guy at our house.
Family business wouldn’t run without our guy,
now Dad’s right hand foreman.
Rock on Bart keep those B’more streets spankin’.