Gun Smoke

I am sitting on the floor
At the end of the bed
In my Uncle Bob and
Aunt Betty’s pine walled
House watching an
Episode of Gun Smoke
With my sibs and cousins
While the adults talk in
The living room and kitchen.
We sit in the dark lit only
By the bluish light of the TV,
A realm of children,
Bruce, Sharon and all
The rest on the floor and
Beds in rapt attention to
The western epic unfolding.
The door opens and our Uncle
Ted enters and sits next to
Me on the floor and begins
To watch TV with us,
He whispers to me that
This is more fun than the
Adult’s conversation,
We both smile and settle
Back to enjoy the story
On TV and the realm of
Children’s innocent
Acceptance of the
Make-believe
We call our
Reality.