Naps and Cigars

I dreamt. with the man who had been to Vietnam speaking at school over the book he wrote about war I knew you in your light gray ARMY shirt pulled over the potbelly, would be coming to visit briefly you were there but enough for me to awaken mind rife with recollections you smoked cigars - by the time I was four, you had ended that habit I see few instances in my mind of you picking up one and sliding the glass door to puff outside you smoked cigars but by the time I was four I knew they were “bad” questioned why you did something that hurt you I can’t say you provided an answer but your son told me it was a habit, leftover. by the time I was four, I think I saw you smoke your last cigar I think there one of my memories of you holding the thick cigar up and it burning brightly as the evening fell you smoked the last one I think there. I think I was there when you smoked the last one you wouldn’t smoke in the house with me you stopped because you wanted more time with me or maybe, just more time. you let me try to climb a tree lifted me on a sitting branch when I failed you let me creep through overgrown lawns as if they were jungle I an explorer though my parents feared snakes I played freely with kids across the street from your home while you kept a casual eye we walked all the way down the street we walked up hills descended them flushed from heat limbs loose from exercise I chattered constant child’s speak while you listened the whole way I, hot in Texas - what a concept - asked if I could mimic you that gray ARMY shirt pulled over your belly you would flip it up and let whatever breeze cool you please could I? and you said sure five year olds have bellies and I showed mine to every person who drove by that day the man about war talked about veterans going quiet but you sang from your records and taught me -isms of life you told me stories of monsters and princesses you let me catch grasshoppers in the yard helping me see them jump at each footfall I picked a bluebonnet - yes I confess - and you told me if I hurried the police wouldn’t arrest me if I made it stand up from the ground quick by the time I was four you had stopped giving time to smoking cigars and I only had to occupy my own time when you were asleep, mid-afternoon Have a nice nap, I’m here when you wake up.