Dad’s World

Let the angels rejoice,
back home.

“Stinky” is howling out the window at the neighbors,
the girls play audience to my session of
“The Preaching,
coffee sippin’,
living room roadshow”.

Cleaning up the gravestones,
releasing the ghosts of the old folks,
planting tomatoes,
police scanner,
doctor visits,
Dad’s world.

“It’s still early but we gotta plan the day,
when to pull the shades,
when to retreat to the basement.”

“It’s gonna be a hot summer,
and this old barn don’t cool off well.”

“Might have to cancel the baseball game tonight, as the train from New York City might not get in on time.”

Once last year I got touched by a spirit, and walked over old ground where my past still lives.

Over breakfast, 
I looked into distraught faces,
“Pardon me I’m so sorry.
I’ll pay the bill, you go to the bathroom.”

The proximity of comedy and despair is not so distant,
ask my sister.
I reflected, later,
on Birthday cakes and Father’s Day.

How opposites co-exist,
how the old is still the old,
and how the not so old believes themselves to be otherwise.


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