Kid Days

your kid days
of magical thought
don’t go away
easily:

you
cross your fingers
against the bills
close your eyes
when there’s screaming
upstairs
finger your lucky quarter
as the boss sputters

and sometimes
you just lie on the couch all day
pretending you’re sick
hoping a cool damp cloth
will be pressed to your forehead

by some invisible 
but loving hand

that never materializes

turn on your tv, kid
or your stereo, son
maybe the hand you seek
is an old song

or a book you dig out of storage

it probably won’t change a thing
there’s so little magic out there
if you think any will be spared for you
you’re likely to be disappointed

but for the moments
you’re hearing or seeing
those old images of carefree
and happy
you

can pretend
that it all
might yet
work out