Rainy days always make me think about taking up smoking
As a child, I'd watch you;
Leg up on the porchside.
Under a hot summer sun,
Cigarette pushed between your fingers,
I remember thinking how much I
Wanted to be like you.
Everyone's old man has a vice.
Or two or three or,
Depending on the old man in question,
Several all at once,
And none he cares to talk about.
Or, likely, doesn't know how to.
Eventually you'd quit,
That's what you said,
Not before countless hours under summer suns
With your son by your side talking about whatever
Was scripted by life and a question as simple as,
"What'd you learn in school today?"
Eventually you quit
We stopped standing out on the porchside.
Summer suns stopped being so bright.
We skipped a couple of seasons,
The last time I could look you in the eye,
Was huddled under an awning, on some rainy day.
I knew you couldn't recognize me.
Honestly, I don't know if you ever did.
YOU ARE READING
RIVER
PoesieA self-guided tour through childhood, innocence, love, and the loss of it all. Feel what you want, it's all butterfly gardens from here anyways. Just remember that you're not alone here. Started January 13th, 2019. Updating weekly, sometimes more.
