Monday, November 4, 2013

A Poem for My Dad

I even miss his halitosis:
turning my nose
straight out the window
on drives to the supermarket.

The angry conversation
with TV news anchors—
the twits who could not
pronounce Pasa Robles.

Pacing the sidelines
of JV football games
wearing his fanny-pack
screaming at unpaid referees.

All the small annoyances
only family can have: fights
with a decade of back-story
occasioned by garage organization.

No one will ever get under my skin
in the same mysteriously visceral way—
or force the teeth-grinding, fist-clenched
response: God damn-it Dad,

I miss you!

1 comment:

joanne said...

you have a gift for words,
thanks for sharing