Keith explained a little,

of his time in Vietnam,

he said the weather outside reminded him of it.

 

It was gloomy outside.

This was the first time Keith talked of

Vietnam.

He didn’t say much else.

 

Then I told Keith

the weather reminded me of my father.

Almost everything does,

but this especially.

He lost me in the park on a gloomy day,

in stormy weather.

 

I can’t remember how old I was,

or where.

But I remember my mother yelling at him for hours.

It wasn’t the first time he lost me.

And it wouldn’t be the last.

 

Keith said sorry.

So did I.

(part of the Michigan Girl Poetry Naratives)