My six year old son calls me into his room,
"Daddy." He is trying to sleep but tells me,
"I'm scared and sad and I don't know why."
I don't have an answer for him.
I lay down beside him, tell him it's O.K.
He smiles, and I smile back.
It is O.K., isn't it? I'm 30 years older than him
and I still get scared and sad sometimes,
and I don't know why. Shit, I know
a handful of people who take a handful
of pills in order to avoid that scene.
But I can't tell him any of that.
He'll think we're all crazy.
Besides, he and I have no pills.
We only have one another,
a kind word, and a friendly face.
In the odd shadows cast by his red
night light, he opens his eyes again
and smiles at me. Then he closes them.
After awhile his breathing becomes
measured, sleepy, and all is well.
from the forthcoming chapbook, "Lucky Penny"
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