Charlie, barely beginning to grow hair on his chin,
Is alone in the house, looking bored, once again.
He’s a typical latchkey kid you’d find these days,
A video-game addict who never works and never prays.
It’s six o’clock, and there’s no sign of his mother.
What makes this day different than any other?
The boy’s forefathers were ranchers, butchers, and mountain men.
Their ghosts are flying. Into Charlie’s abode they enter in.
The boy does not see them, but his ancestors are there,
A few lean by the door, a bearded man floats in the air.
The invisible men stare intently at the young man
And something pulls him to the kitchen, to look for a pan.
He sets it on the stove and lights the little fire.Bacon is on his mind. Bacon is his desire.