In the days before TV
I’d wake to the smell of bacon,
Dad in the narrow kitchen
of the Coffelt house, the radio
reporting war, bombs and fighter jets
over the Suez Canal
I was afraid too close
to our local news and weather report.
I first remember my mother
talking to herself
in that same kitchen
and asking who she was talking to
more often now
as my alter ego
impulsively shares
some candid humor
with and about myself.
drycrikjournal 