The Night John Belushi Died

The house I grew up in
was small, old,
there was a living room in the front
with doors that slid,
recessed back into the drywall,
we rarely used it,
the curtains were never open and it was dark outside
and I went in and slid the doors shut behind me,
it was late winter and we shut the vents
to the room to save heat,
I sat in the recliner in the cold,
I was still small and
I rocked back,
then sliding my body back
into the chair,
my feet hitting the floor
only when it rocked forwards,
I was listening to the radio,
an old Westinghouse AM radio,
big as my hand,
there was a small mono headphone that went in one ear
and I listened to music in my left ear
out of my right I could hear my father
moving around the house loudly
me pushing the chair backward in the dark,
head against the backrest,
my small hands holding the big armrests tightly,
very tightly.