I hear jingling pockets at the grocery
and suddenly
all I can think of is you.

I am ten again, greeting you
at the door.
I tuck my head under your chin and note,
“Daddy, you smell just like pennies!”
and you only laugh
and hold me closer.

I am five and haven’t slept in days.
you, well, you
silently traipse outside with a broom.
And you never said anything, but
my hooting owl never again
sat in my holly tree
and stayed up all night with me.

I am eighteen now and here I am,
crying in the laundry room at 3 a.m.
But my handful of nickels reminds me.
You can’t chase my owls anymore,
but as for these demons of mine—
they will always vanish before you.