There he is
his face hidden in his arms
pages of newspaper peering from under his belly
the old habit of his
reading and passing on to sleep,
lying like a well fed python.
When he is like this
I want to go over and put my head on his back
Make a big ‘T’ of two people
and just lie there until he wakes up
but I don’t.
I have an image in my head that I did something like that
when I was younger
it could be true.
Sometimes I bulge up with anger
and I want to lay all my darkness at his feet
every fucking argument, every fucking fight
plays before my eyes,
my anger and despair boils over
I wish you weren't my father, I scream
ignorant, prejudiced, stupid and weak
I am screaming less,
I am screaming less often..
he is graying in that slow decaying fashion
which tells you: it is now futile,
keep your accusations to yourself, this litigation is over
I fear he is less today than yesterday
the light in him burning out
like a radioactive element disintegrating
I am afraid, and
I feel like a moron.
Time is flying like the clouds in summer
I am the way I am,
and he is the way he is
standing at the opposite edges of a great chasm
that is getting wider,
I wish we would wave.
I wish we would make up a happy memory together
before the inertia kills us both.