I cannot bring my father to life in writing,
Though I know some who have,
A mesmerizing sort of word dance
And I might invest similar motions with such dance
If only I could forget enough to remember it right.
I recently said to someone
Who was complaining of his father’s complaints,
“Why, my father was always fair with me,
he was always fair with everyone.”
I didn’t know that until the moment I said it.
But damn, it’s so true.
I should have my ass kicked for a lot of things,
I guess, but it’s too late to do me much good
Since my father’s been dead for 15 years
And everything I know about what he knew
Is just with me and in me and always better than me
And I must always remember it like that
If I'm to be any good at all.
rcs.
1st draft: 08/03/06
©2006 Ronald C. Southern
And a Roadrunner, too
-
Alice seemed almost as excited about our seeing new birds as we were seeing
them ourselves. On one of the first days we were there, she yelled
“Roadrunner...
15 hours ago
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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)