we were too poor

to have vacations when I

was a kid

but once we drove all the way

to Greenwood Lake

stayed overnight in a cabin

with screen doors

in the front and the back

a long dark hallway yawning in

between

I caught three

sunfish

threw them back

climbed with my brother

over boulders and rocks

and into trees

collecting pine

cones

and stringy empty birds’ nests

but what I remember most

was Dad looking so thin, thin

as a matchstick man,

there beneath the mountains

sitting up

on the hood

of his shiny ’56 Buick

having

one last smoke

before the long

long ride

back home