Pete the Cop

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The bars, the bars,
bars to the left, bars to
the right, and front to
back – then there was
a silent stream of light,
light which filtered
through a slight crack
in the doorway. Light
from the kitchen.

God – God he always
stared at me, always
watched – four inches
by four inches on the wall
above my wooden bars.

My older brother only
a few feet away lay awake
holding Pete The Cop.
Why didn’t I have a friend
in the crib?
But, I had God –
he glowed in the dark.

At night God watched us play
“Iron Curtain.”
After all those hugs and kisses,
tucked in sheets –
flat now.
Flat.
Flat.
Flat.
I turned my head toward my
brother and said, “It’s time.”

Heard the radiator hiss as my
brother crept out of bed leaving
Pete – he placed his blanket
over the wooden bar.

Now, on my knees.
little knees – little, little knees,
in a whisper, I looked into
my brother’s eyes –
“Iron Curtain Going Up.”
He pulled his end of the blanket.

“Come on, come on before
I will lose my turn.”  Hurry, the
door will open and dark
figures will cut through a
beam of light – feet will make
strange sounds on the linoleum.
Broad shoulders, footsteps and
sand papered feet.

“They will hide Daddy’s
Navy Blanket.” I told him.

“Iron Curtain Going Down.”
Was it the crack in the door,
or stream of light, perhaps God who
scared me?  I am sure it was not
Pete The Cop – but yes, a hug
from Pete would have felt so good.

Nancy Duci Denofio (C) 2011 updated.

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