grandpas

Plaid flannel shirtsof my Northwoods youthsmelled ofbeer and pine conesboat motor gasoline andfresh-caught sunfishwood smokeand filtered Winstons When I was a kid theintertwined, pungentaromas of cervelat salamiplumbers’ grease, house paintmingled freely, lockedin square-patterned fibersalways-rolled-up sleeves no amount ofFels Naptha-soapcould smother thosegodly auras When I was a kidplaid flannel shirts smelledwonderfully worn by heroes –old men Read more