Wet with Crown Royal
he reached an otherwise out of range note,
calling me 2 the basement.
13 steps
eyes closed
getting in2 character
fingers on the rail as a reference point.
He was sweating,
on the edge of the brown couch.
Elbows on knees - barefoot - a rabid raccoon in the heat of day -
often it was like this
bifocals upside down on the maple coffee table.
Dylan or Hendrix on the 45.
As he ruminated up and down hindsight, in the dark
it always came 2 me at some point...the way I see it, he drank himself 2 some derivative of guilt - some state where he couldn't settle it in his own mind - - - needed my gangly frame in front of him - - -
He needed 2 be sure I knew.
knew that it wasn't really my fault - - -
"sometimes I say things because I'm 2 chickenshit to put your Grandpa's gun 2 use, I don't know, you couldn't help it...get out of here"
that was it, no I love you, I'm sorries - - - not that I expected that.
I think he just wanted 2 get that blame out of his face so he could go back to feeling whatever it was he wanted 2 feel.
I could tell the morning of after a while, that it would be a basement day.
he wouldn't shower or shave...
standing in the middle of the back yard in his boxers.
I thought maybe a bad dream...but really, who knows?
I needed 2 stay in the house on those days, wait - - - if not he would come and find me when I didn't answer the call...
and I had 2 maintain eye contact when he spoke, even though his eyes weren't on me,
if I stared away - - - he thought I was "mocking" him - - -
so I alternated between the middle row of furrows on his brow
and the ceramic donkey on the shelf behind the couch - - -
from mom's childhood vacations 2 pikes peak,
grandpa had engraved it,
given it 2 her as a birthday present
years ago.
he reached an otherwise out of range note,
calling me 2 the basement.
13 steps
eyes closed
getting in2 character
fingers on the rail as a reference point.
He was sweating,
on the edge of the brown couch.
Elbows on knees - barefoot - a rabid raccoon in the heat of day -
often it was like this
bifocals upside down on the maple coffee table.
Dylan or Hendrix on the 45.
As he ruminated up and down hindsight, in the dark
it always came 2 me at some point...the way I see it, he drank himself 2 some derivative of guilt - some state where he couldn't settle it in his own mind - - - needed my gangly frame in front of him - - -
He needed 2 be sure I knew.
knew that it wasn't really my fault - - -
"sometimes I say things because I'm 2 chickenshit to put your Grandpa's gun 2 use, I don't know, you couldn't help it...get out of here"
that was it, no I love you, I'm sorries - - - not that I expected that.
I think he just wanted 2 get that blame out of his face so he could go back to feeling whatever it was he wanted 2 feel.
I could tell the morning of after a while, that it would be a basement day.
he wouldn't shower or shave...
standing in the middle of the back yard in his boxers.
I thought maybe a bad dream...but really, who knows?
I needed 2 stay in the house on those days, wait - - - if not he would come and find me when I didn't answer the call...
and I had 2 maintain eye contact when he spoke, even though his eyes weren't on me,
if I stared away - - - he thought I was "mocking" him - - -
so I alternated between the middle row of furrows on his brow
and the ceramic donkey on the shelf behind the couch - - -
from mom's childhood vacations 2 pikes peak,
grandpa had engraved it,
given it 2 her as a birthday present
years ago.
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