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seem wise
matter anyway.
I want to keep thinking he’s the enemy.
But suddenly he’s
just a man
not a monster
no longer a stranger.
My father.
THE BUZZ QUIETS
Blood pressure drops.
Anger dissipates, ghostlike.
But I’m still just this side
of wasted drunk. Enough
for me to open my mouth
and say, “Did you know
Kristina got pregnant that
night?” I think surprise
should surface in his eyes.
Instead he says, Actually, yes.
She sort of blackmailed
me into abortion money.
A half laugh stutters out.
“You still don’t get it, do you?
I’m that baby. And you, quite
probably, are my biological father.”
HIS JAW PLUMMETS
And that alone is almost worth
every emotion I’ve lately
sorted through. “Really.
I mean, hello. Have you
