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Dad Crashed
Slept twelve hours, got
up for a drink and a
pee, slept six more.
Good thing it was his
day off.
But was it always his
day off? Or did he
sometimes go to work,
mind folded down
around exhaustion?
Did he sometimes
blow off work completely,
call in sick, notating on
his calendar the
Illness of the Day?
No bowling, no small talk,
just plain, empty time,
I walked down to
the corner store for
Pepsi and Cosmopolitan.
Guess who was buying
cigarettes, copper skin
glistening bittersweet
summer sweat. One
look, I was Play-Doh.
He Knew It, Too
He turned, flashed
a drop-dead-in-your-tracks
gorgeous grin.
