my dad and me

Updated: Aug 21, 2019

when people ask about my dad

i would say that i am him,

but i would need a bob and stache

and as admirable as he would be

still, i’d never say that he was me


up until i was eighteen? i see saw him in my anger

almost, always, only ever

a defeat

of better not retreat cause you can are better

shit

hit

time and time over

and over to know that i am better

but whether i’d still echo every swear word he knew

when he wasn’t around

is still a question

i refuse to review


now somedays when i smell him in other words

now of mine

i can’t decide

if i hate

how we are so alike or how i am only realizing this now

more


yet

i would still need

patience

spoken in a silence that one would mistaken for distance until one learns what true distance is

i would need more books

more secrets

and war stories

that’d leave me to need to be asked how i feel before i realize to tell


my dad, and me

we never ask

i never asked

but work and soccer

and heros

who perhaps also left

love in the photographs they’d ask a smile


and now we simply say i miss you

though it just feels the same


a shadow

of a shadow


my dad and me

my dad, and me