old men in a park

Old Men in a Park.

Sunshine, they sit in the park, the old guys
I nod to them as I drive past on my scooter,
no doubt they are talking about old times.

Lately I have been remembering whence
I was a child, it’s very confusing a soldier
hangs from a hook in the basement, there
is a smell of shit, my aunt lift her skirt and
pees into the sink, aunt is my uncle, didn’t
know this and there is shrieking laughter.

Cold winters, lice in blankets, the animal
smell of unwashed bodies and the reek of
cheap alcohol. A fire behind a haze causes
shadows, a man’s voice, too sweet, entices
a child with chocolate, leading a lamb to
slaughter. There is nothing to remember
except the voice that used to read for me.

Tired, I know longer know the difference
between a nightmare and a memory, think
I’ll join the old men, in the park, and listen
to their tall tales of daring do whence they
were young.