There’s a dad  

When yer scrapin yer way through a shitty March
When yer heads in the clouds but yer throats parched
When the waxwings come callin and you can’t sing a tune
When the roosters crow and the cow jumps over the moon
When theres no fillin in your pie, no words in your book
No peak in your freans, no king to castle your rook
When theres no spade for your grave no power to save no smile to cave
No skin to clean no dreams to dream no pipes to ream
No bikes to ride no places to hide no strings to find
When it all comes down to that and that isn’t enough
When it’s all about the past and stones in the rough
When it’s all about your faults and all the wrongs
When it’s not who you know but lost girls and a sad song
When you try to get it up and can’t
When you can’t spit to water a plant
When you can’t untie your throat enough to rant
When all the shit overflows onto the street
And on a hot day all you get is more heat

When you find yourself in those digs
you go down to the hospital to see your Father and
you wear the circa 1972 denim jacket that he gave you after he said it “shrank”.
you take him the copy of Yurtle the Turtle that he gave you 30 years ago,
and you sit beside him and you can’t help but see
the guy who let go of your bike for the first time
the guy who taught you how to shoot a gun
the guy who you thought was superman
now lying there in pain
and you see your dad as he
really is
a man full of piss and vinegar and potato chips
full of pride and tattoos and swear words
full of navy stories, big hands, and popeye arms.
You see a man who still thinks he’s invincible

you see your father how he really is
and the crazy thing is

you still
want to be
just like him

© 2006 Mike Gravel