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Domesticated thirty-something female
watches deep sea fishermen
battle with their demons.
Testosterone depleted husband
of ineligible age
watches lions mating
in the Serengeti,
orange fingers
stray to family sized
edibles.

Outside, little Billy is playing
with Tony, a bigger playmate.
They make up little games
even though they have toys
that don’t require imagination,
they make up little stories
about the toys anyway.
Freckled kids, good mostly.

Turn the radio off
and you will hear mother singing
low
as she washes her hands again
with the soap of regret.

Not my family memory
not yours -
but there were worse memories
hanging around on street corners
back then,
I guess you recall.

Family light entertainment
was once a real show
made when commercials
slept in tree houses.
Only now do we see
that they were
what the T.V. dreamt of
when alone in the dark.

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