My Father is Asleep
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.