A Memoir of
Sorts
The fourth move
in as many
years leaving
little
to carry
It could have
been a pro
shop when
faded
dreams still
had a pulse
Two rooms one
faucet
and a
necessary
path out back
Three people
who would
live without
privacy
and still
have love
Dad displaced
from the
classroom by
diseased feet
Growing minnows
in a
hatchery where
golfers
would have
played
Mother counting
and selling
fish bait
little money
hard life
honest work
Sunrise to
sunset and beyond
they worked
through
pain and
sorrow with humor
My inheritance
would be truthtelling
honest dealing
the
saving grace
of humor
I used a rifle
my grandfather once
swapped his
warped false teeth
for to shoot
bullfrogs
I mostly kept
my rebellion
to myself and
when I didn't
dad's
weakness was the paddle
I carried more
books home
from school
than
anyone except
Lois Gordon
I opted out on
football
memorized
Shakespeare
recited to
mother
Moments of joy
punctuated the
boredom
My sister was
born there later
I would claim
to be an
only child as
could she
Dad's health
improved they left
the cabin
mother got
a job I left
home
The log cabin
long gone can't
imagine that a
single person
has missed it
Hard times
linger in memory
good has a
longer
attention
span
Valued imprint
left on my psyche
comes in handy
in repacking
my
metaphorical suitcase
