up in a different era, a time
when
kids were to be seen
and not heard.
he'd steer the lot of us
out into
the yard, or playground
to the swings,
the slides
and monkey bars.
then close the door.
he needed to lie on
the couch
and drink a beer while
watching the game
on Sundays.
it was his holy time.
sometimes he'd coerce
my mother
out of the kitchen,
often against her wishes,
convincing her
to head up the stairs
to fool around.
which disgusted us if
we came in early,
and heard from
the top step
what was going down.
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