Sometimes one, out of the blue, feels the yearning to tell a secret or to state what one think is an unknown fact.
One doean't go to estranges, one go to one's family first, the sounding board, the pilars of your intellectual roof, the ones looking at you with respect and hoping to get guidance from your infinite and kind knowledge, the ones that will chose your Retirement Home if you aren't wise enough and duck first.

I told my 5 years old granddaughter...
"I am a poet"
she looked at me with enormous eyes
like I was coming from another planet,
hoping it wasn't something bad
she seemed like was ready to start to cry,
"no...no...no..." I said, "it's nothing bad,
it's something I write..."
but she turned around to run to her mother
with a look that said I am scared to dead.

Then, I told my 18 years old grandson...
"I am a poet"
trying to get a little attention,
maybe stir curiosity for some of what I mused
and forget for a minute all the pretty girls
and that horrible noise that for music they confuse,
realizing by his glazed stare that he hadn't
the foggiest idea of what means to be a poet,
and that his grandfather, in his older days,
seems to be living...yes...in another planet.

I waited until everybody in the family was sitting
around the supper table to announce..."I am a poet,"
which forced my oldest daughter to look at me
like I "was" really from another planet...
while thinking that, maybe, I was going bananas,
sorrowful my oldest son was shaking his head,
as the rest of the clan reading their faces
took it as a clue to choke with their bread,
like all of a sudden I was some kind of a nut
and not a POET !!!!!!