.....Starlight .....

...Starlight...

My father stands in the warm eveningon the porch of my first house.I am four years old and growing tired.I see his head among the stars,the glow of his cigarette, redderthan the summer moon ridinglow over the old neighborhood. Weare alone, and he asks me if I am happy."Are you happy?" I cannot answerI do not really understand the word,and the voice, my father's voice, is nothis voice, but somehow thick and choked,a voice I have not heard before, butheard often since. He bends and passesa thumb beneath each of my eyes.The cigarette is gone, but I can smellthe tiredness that hangs on his breath.He has found nothing, and he smilesand holds my head with both his hands.Then he lifts me to his shoulder,and now I too am there among the stars,as tall as he. Are you happy? I say.He nods in answer, Yes! oh yes! oh yes!And in that new voice he says nothing,holding my head tight against his head,his eyes closed up against the starlight,as though those tiny blinking eyesof light might find a tall, gaunt childholding his child against the promisesof autumn, until the boy sleptnever to waken in that world again.