I usually don’t remember them,
     trust them, listen intently to them,
     have been known to blush,
     been so moved to tears or joy
     I had to go somewhere.
     by myself
     to take it all in 
     smile on the inside.

     There’s a few I do remember:

      In fifth grade when my dad went to jail,
      we all tried to keep it a secret
      for the three month duration,
      he sat around playing cards 
      in an orange jumpsuit,
      Sister Amica told my mom
      at a parent-teacher conference
      where I waited just outside the door
      sitting on a hard bench
      in the hallway where the janitor
      had just mopped,
      not in the ugly green plaid uniform
      I had to wear at that school everyday,
      Sister told my mom I was a real good writer
      and to encourage me to write write write.

      In college, a grad student I had a crush on–
      finally drank too much, took me to bed
      placed a needle on some recording of a god-awful
      Wagner classical piece that played over and over again,
      while I tried to make love like a grad student,
      he said:
                                 You are a cross between
                           Sissy Spacek & Faye Dunaway
At least, I think it was a compliment.

      Most recently, my 12 year old grandson,
      who grows about 2 inches a week,
      and loves to swear around me
      because I let him,
      said he would really miss
      me and G-Pa when we died,
      and then we made waffles.