My son had a friend nobody could see
Standard childhood phenomenon
Ate dinner with us, sat in the empty chair
Had a place setting and a bedtime
Normal, the pediatrician said
Healthy imagination, social development
Let it run its course
Most children outgrow it by seven
My son is thirty-two now
And the chair is still pulled out at dinner
And the place setting is still there
And whatever sits in it still eats
The report card came home from a school
That does not exist
For a student enrolled
In a class with no teacher and no room
I watched the food disappear from the plate
Not eaten, not removed
The meatloaf just gradually diminishing
As if being absorbed by the air above the chair
The glass of water empties in small sips
The napkin unfolds and refolds
And once, just once
I saw the chair adjust its weight
My son moved out at eighteen
And the invisible friend stayed
It remained in our house
In the room my son vacated
It grew up here
Whatever we were feeding
Has been growing in this house
For twenty-six years
And the chair at dinner
Is not big enough anymore
I can hear the wood straining
Under something that never stopped growing
And never outgrew us