Sunday, December 21, 2014

December 21…My Father’s Birthday

No wonder I’m drunk…
I couldn’t remember when it was….
so, I had to be drunk all year long
so I wouldn’t miss it.

My moher would have gottten that joke.
At least, that’s what I’m making up
in happy remeberance of my father…

…who taught me to ride a bike…
..who wouldn’t tell me about the Mafia…
…who told me he would drink olive oil
so he could go out and drink and not get
drunk….who told me of people he saw
get killed on the streets of Chicago 
when he was a boy…who I worked with
digging tree stumps and building limestone
walls outside our house…who didn’t 
understand me when I was old enough
to understand…who told me he loved me
just before he died, and, I him.
No wonder I have any character.

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