MY RAINY DAYS Here I have a Davy Crocket mug, left over from my younger frontier days. Here I have a worn in baseball glove, a veteran of those schoolyard double plays. Here I have an empty cardboard box that held mementos of a love I failed. Here I have a pile of expectations, regrets addressed but never really mailed. Here I am, pacing back and forth, here I stand, facing south and north. Here I go, counting up my dimes, here I stay, saving up old times. I am storing up, I am storing up, storing up my winning ways. I am storing up, I am storing up, storing up my rainy days. I threw away those travel trip brochures, escape attempts that could not scale the walls. I threw away those names with no phone numbers, I’m tired of sitting here just waiting for their calls. I threw away those tools with broken handles, done with days of digging in the dirt. I’m sorting through that family memorabilia, finding treasure, bandaging the hurt. Here I am, pacing back and forth, here I stand, facing south and north. Here I go, counting up my dimes, here I stay, saving up old times. The wind will blow the dust from my sails. The rain will wash the clouds from my sky. The sun will melt the snow where I walk. And the moon will light my wings as I fly. I am storing up, I am storing up, storing up my winning ways. I am storing up, I am storing up, storing up my rainy days.

STAY AT HOME DADDY Ten seconds from a clean escape, no one had a hook in him yet. Thought he’d swim with the fish in the sea, not struggle in a tiny net, ‘till she caught his eye and she reeled him back in. With a look that he’d never forget, she said, “stay at home Daddy,” and her face was a shine like a tear. She said, “stay at home Daddy,” and her voice was a smile in his ear. She said “I need you so,” how could you ever go? Don’t you know that your place is right here?” She said, “stay at home Daddy.” Soon he was the father of a sweet baby girl. That was just like doing hard time. A prisoner of love with no hope of parole, he went looking for a ladder to climb. With his foot on the rung, he looked back at his child. And he felt like he’d committed a crime when she said, “stay at Home Daddy,” and her face was a shine like a tear. She said, “stay at home Daddy,” and her voice was a cry in his ear. When someone needs him so, how could a father go? And he knew that his place was right here when she said, “stay at home Daddy.”   Wasn’t much work for a man of his means, wasn’t a way he could change it. His woman went out and she found a good job, she called an old friend to arrange it. And it all seemed to fit, he was surprised to admit that this lifestyle didn’t even seem strange. Now he’s a stay at home Daddy, he’s got lots of time for his child. He’s a stay at home Daddy, he don’t miss his old life in the wild. His family needs him so, how could he ever go, when he knows that his place is right here? And he’s a stay at home Daddy.

BOYS PLAYING WITH BARBIES Boys play different with Barbie’s, they like to run them over with trains. They dress ‘em up in fatigues, chop ‘em off at the knees, and use a hunting knife to transplant their brains. Boys play different with Barbie’s, but they don’t mean to do so much harm, when they sneak out on a dare, take a match to their hair, and use a hacksaw to sever their arms. All the boys in the hood get invited to attend the Barbie barbecue. The way that dripping plastic gets ignited gives all their little sisters the Barbie blues. Boys play different with Barbie’s, they all agree that Ken is a wimp. The much prefer their GI Joes, and all those action heroes, and injured robots that can walk with a limp. All the boys in the hood get invited to attend the Barbie barbecue. The way that dripping plastic gets ignited gives all their little sisters the Barbie blues.   Boys play different with Barbie’s, Mom just don’t understand, out in the yard she hears cheers while little Susie’s in tears because her favorite doll has only one hand. But don’t think all this mayhem is planned, they just like to bury Barbie’s in sand (up to their necks), they just like to bury Barbie’s in sand (and pour honey on their heads so the ants will eat their eyes out.) A Barbie hanging in a tree is worth two in the hand. Boys play different with Barbie’s.

KEEPING YOU Where are the pictures of the little brown horses that keep jumping over fences on my wall? Where is the squeak that hides underneath the carpet whenever you are coming down the hall? Where is the table that has wings like an airplane, with a pocket for my pencils and a drawer? Where is our neighborhood? Just got to know it good, and I’ve never seen these city streets before. Gone are the horses, they’re still jumping back in Texas. The floor squeaks under someone else’s feet. Gone are the pencils and the drawer that used to hold them, from now on we’ll be calling this home street. Where are the berries that grow high on the branches in the back of the garden where I hide? Where is my swing set that stands in the corner, with the dirt at the bottom of the slide? Where are the numbers I was s’pposed to remember, just in case I get lost down at the mall. Where’s the crack in the driveway that I tripped over three times, when those two out of three times made me fall. Gone are the berries, they don’t grow in California. All gone is your swing set and the dirt. Gone are the numbers, we’ve got new ones to remember, and I’m sure you’ll find some new ways to get hurt. There are things we must do without, now our life’s turning inside out. Many things we must find anew, but we’re keeping me, we’re keeping you.   Where is Jimmy Willing? We were s’pposed to go fishing, saving up some crickets for the bait. Where is Mrs. Parker? Guess I kinda miss her, even though she always yells when I am late. Where is Mr. Bennet, he lives right around the corner? When he drinks a beer he always gives me some. Wasn’t s’pposed to tell you that, I miss him most of all. Tell me, when do you think we’ll be going home? Gone is the fishing hole, and Jimmy Willing with it. Gone is Mrs. Parker and your class. Gone is Mr. Bennet, and I knew about the beer, Son. It’s time that we both looked for greener grass. There are things we must do without, now our life’s turning inside out. Many things we must find anew, but we’re keeping me, we’re keeping you.

CLOSE ENOUGH TO TOUCH The Dream stuck to me, like a kite stuck to a tree. Maybe it was born in the wind or the wind was born in me, who tried to ride the thunder, who tried to read the sky, that flashes for an instant and overwhelms the eye. The wind can only speak through the leaves, rain mumbles as it leaks through the eaves, so secretive, they never do say much but sometimes they come close enough to touch. A tornado, it came looking, I stared and watched it pass. I knew it wasn’t seeking me as it slithered through the grass. The underground called up to me, I stood there just the same, as with debris, the whirlwind, on a building wrote it’s name. The wind can only speak through the leaves, rain mumbles as it leaks through the eaves, so secretive, they never do say much but sometimes they come close enough to touch. Close enough to catch a scent, familiar just to you, as if somebody was near. Or overhear a fragment, kids laughing how they do when grownups cannot hear. There’s a message in the lightning, flashing through the dark, created as the wind and clouds, when rubbing shed a spark, to punctuate a moment our lives illuminate, and then move by on flapping wings like birds who couldn’t wait. The wind can only speak through the leaves, rain mumbles as it leaks through the eaves, so secretive, they never do say much but sometimes they come close enough to touch.

CAVE IN Down in this heart the timbers are old, the dust is oppressive, the walls rough and cold. I know there’s a diamond beneath all this stone, wearing my fingers right down to the bone. It’s not a crush, it’s a cave in, sixty feet under your ground. Deep in your eyes, it’s a cave in, lost and don’t wanna be found. Beneath all this heartbreak, I’ll find it, I know, and carry it back here before the first snow. Present it to you on the palm of my hand, a tear made of stone from a sea made of sand. It’s not a crush, it’s a cave in, sixty feet under your ground. Deep in your eyes, it’s a cave in, lost and don’t wanna be found. Sooner or later you have to look up at the sky. The blue of your eyes is each day in the heart of July. It’s not a crush, it’s a cave in, sixty feet under your ground. Deep in your eyes, it’s a cave in, lost and don’t wanna be found.

THE MIDDLE OF MY LIFE Hear that far away thunder, sounds just like old times to me. Nose pressed up against the storm door, wind squeezes in through the dusty screen, fragrant with ghosts of the coming rain. And the thunder booms like empty rooms, and the lightning cracks like aging backs, and the rain complains like the moan of old trains, and the pavement steams like forgotten old dreams. Startled alive by the thud, my heart pushing around my blood. Taken by surprise, here, in the middle of my life. Heat simmer off the skin and rides away on a gust like cottonwood down. My whole being sighs with relief, indigo cotton shadows the lawn. The air sizzles with expectation. And the thunder booms like empty room, and the lightning cracks like aging backs, and the rain complains like the moan of old trains, and the pavement steams like forgotten old dreams. Startled alive by the thud, my heart pushing around my blood. Taken by surprise, here in the middle of my life. Waking up here, in the neck of my woods, where the oblong shadows are deep. Light slants through the leaves and the stories are real, I’ve been walking around in my sleep.

FAMILY ALBUM Here’s me, here’s you. Here’s me holding you the first time. Here’s your Dad, you didn’t know him. You were tiny when he died. Here he’s trying to change your diaper while you squirm. I remember how I cried when the doctor brought the news, and I sat beside his bed for days. How I searched for one last glimpse of the only man I ever loved, then at last he had just one more thing to say. He told me, “Someday, all those lost will gather round, and they’ll hold us in the shelter of their arms. Someday, they will smile at us again, like these pictures in our family album. Until then, we must keep our focus clear as we hold them in our fondest memory.” Here’s Tim with you, see how you giggled when he teased you. Here he’s in his cap and gown, I was never quite so proud. Here’s Tim standing in his army uniform. You remember that cold day when they handed us the flag, we watched those men so carefully fold. I remember both our tears, scattered jewels on cherry wood, how you sobbed and shook and could not be consoled. I told you,   “Someday, all those lost will gather round, and they’ll hold us in the shelter of their arms. Someday, they will smile at us again, like these pictures in our family album. Until then, we must keep our focus clear as we hold them in our fondest memory.” Here’s you, here’s me. Remember holding me the first time? Here’s Dad, here’s your son, Tim, they’re both waiting for you now. Rest a minute, Mom, these memories will return. Don’t you remember all those hours we spent pouring through this book as you taught me not to fear what lies ahead? Can I comfort you today, like you have done for all my life? Let’s recall that special thing you always said. When you told me, “Someday, all those lost will gather round, and they’ll hold us in the shelter of their arms. Someday, they will smile at us again, like these pictures in our family album. Until then, we must keep our focus clear as we hold them in our fondest memory.”

EVERYTHING AND A KITE What would you like for your birthday, my Dear? Hardly seems like another whole year. When seeds from the maples spin down in this way, feel in your bones it’s the last day of May. How ‘bout a puppy, I’ll teach him cool tricks. I’ll walk him and get him to chase after sticks. Blue mountain bike and a red BB gun, piercing my nostril would be lots of fun. In-line skates and some pads for my knees, red flyer wagon, a fort in the trees. Candy to eat to my small heart’s delight. I want everything and a kite. My Dear, I have done the best that I could, here are paper and string and long pieces of wood. If you stand in the field waiting for the right breeze, you will learn when to run and when to release. You will learn to hold tight when the wind starts to gust, how to trust in the weather and do what you must, when to stand in the shade, when to bend toward the light. I wish for your future, with all of my might, to hold everything and a kite. What would you like for your birthday, my Dear? I want everything and a kite.

WISHING STAR Out of the million stars in the sky, how did you find your way here? Out of the million lights in your eyes, how did you see your way clear? Now when I’m adding up my blessings, always begin and end with you. Guess that my wishing star must have been right on course, keeping my fingers crossed just the same. Guess that my lucky day must have been overdue, got all my angels calling your name. Out of the million fish in the sea, how did I wind up here in your pail? Out of odds a million chances to one, how did this small pair of hearts prevail? Now when I’m adding up my blessings, always begin and end with you. Guess that my wishing star must have been right on course, keeping my fingers crossed just the same. Guess that my lucky day must have been overdue, got all my angels calling your name.

I’VE GOT HOPES FOR YOU I’ve got a star in an indigo sky, I’ve got a gleam in a passionate eye, flash in the dark of a firefly, and I’ve got hopes for you. I’ve got the echo of a wild loon’s cry, I’ve got the promise of a sweet goodbye, I gotta laugh and I don’t know why, and I’ve got hopes for you. Oh, silence breaking, frog is jumping in. Oh, I’ve been aching to sit with you again. I’ve got the snap of a fresh green bean, I’ve got a treat after Halloween, the fading remains of a dreaming scene, and I’ve got hopes for you. Oh, fire’s raging, wind’s a bitter chill. Oh, bodies aging, hearts are youthful still. I’ve got the breath of a distant sound, I’ve got a racer who’s closing ground, the first thing you see when you turn around, and I’ve got hopes for you. I’ve got hopes for you.