Somehow

I’m remembering

a certain feeling of

soft music

with instruments

played by real musicians

there was no Black and White

radio

all music that was good

was on the same station

I’m remembering brightly striped shirts

never matching with anything

but my mind

full of color and

life

ready to be absorbed by someone

and absorb something meaningful

I remember a sweet sun

that didn’t burn as much

warm skin

my olive tones

turned chocolate brown

nicely

I think of Santa Claus

only because it

was really my father

falling asleep

while wrapping my gifts

and I loved listening to

pass the dutchie to the left hand side

while opening gifts up

I thought it was pass the ketchup and

everyone

loved hotdogs like me

my father let me say words like

hamboogar

and bajamas

and only corrected me

if I was impolite

or factually incorrect

he had faith that

I would figure it out

and I guess

he’s right

but I’m still

figuring out

if he’s right