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.