21
21
My father is run over by a car,
He's passed out in the road
with the blood-alcohol content
four times the legal limit.
I do not cry.
Four months later,
the nurses lose his pulse
and I wonder
whose life flashed before his eyes.
Rewinding VHS tapes.
Old home videos.
20
19
I haven't brought a friend home in four years.
18
My mother sips the word
"divorce"
her mouth curls at the taste
like it burns going down.
17
I start doing my homework at Starbucks
I have more meaningful conversations
with the barista than with my family.
16
I wait for Christmas Eve.
My brother and I usually
exchange gifts to one another early.
This year,
he and my father
exchange blows.
My mother doesn't go to Mass.
15
I come up with the theory
that my father started drinking again
because maybe he found out
that I'm gay.
Like if he could make everything else blurry,
maybe somehow I'd look straight.
15
My mother cleans up his vomit
in the middle of the night
and cooks breakfast in the morning
like she hasn't lost her appetite.
15
I blame myself.
15
My brother blames everyone else.
15
My mother blames the dog.
15
SuperBowl Sunday.
My father bursts through the door
like an avalanche
picking up speed and debris
as he falls.
Banisters.
Coffee tables.
Picture frames.
Tumbling,
stumbling,
I find his age up on the kitchen counter.
14
My father's been sober for ten-
maybe eleven years?
I just know
we don't even think about it anymore.
13
12
11
Mom tells me
"Daddy's meetings are for AA"
She asks me if I know what that means.
I don't.
I nod anyway.
10
My parents never drink wine at family gatherings,
all my other aunts and uncles do.
I get distracted by the TV
and forget to ask why.
I wanna be Spiderman.
Or my dad.
They're kinda the same.
I have a nightmare.
The reoccurring one about
Ursula from the Little Mermaid,
so I get up,
I waddle towards Mommy and Daddy's room,
blankie in hand.
I pause.
Daddy's standing in his underwear
silhouetted by a refrigerator light.
He raises a bottle to his lips.
When my mother was pregnant with me
I wonder if she hoped,
as so many mothers do,
that her baby boy
would grow up to be
just
like
his
father.
My father is run over by a car,
He's passed out in the road
with the blood-alcohol content
four times the legal limit.
I do not cry.
Four months later,
the nurses lose his pulse
and I wonder
whose life flashed before his eyes.
Rewinding VHS tapes.
Old home videos.
20
19
I haven't brought a friend home in four years.
18
My mother sips the word
"divorce"
her mouth curls at the taste
like it burns going down.
17
I start doing my homework at Starbucks
I have more meaningful conversations
with the barista than with my family.
16
I wait for Christmas Eve.
My brother and I usually
exchange gifts to one another early.
This year,
he and my father
exchange blows.
My mother doesn't go to Mass.
15
I come up with the theory
that my father started drinking again
because maybe he found out
that I'm gay.
Like if he could make everything else blurry,
maybe somehow I'd look straight.
15
My mother cleans up his vomit
in the middle of the night
and cooks breakfast in the morning
like she hasn't lost her appetite.
15
I blame myself.
15
My brother blames everyone else.
15
My mother blames the dog.
15
SuperBowl Sunday.
My father bursts through the door
like an avalanche
picking up speed and debris
as he falls.
Banisters.
Coffee tables.
Picture frames.
Tumbling,
stumbling,
I find his age up on the kitchen counter.
14
My father's been sober for ten-
maybe eleven years?
I just know
we don't even think about it anymore.
13
12
11
Mom tells me
"Daddy's meetings are for AA"
She asks me if I know what that means.
I don't.
I nod anyway.
10
My parents never drink wine at family gatherings,
all my other aunts and uncles do.
I get distracted by the TV
and forget to ask why.
I wanna be Spiderman.
Or my dad.
They're kinda the same.
I have a nightmare.
The reoccurring one about
Ursula from the Little Mermaid,
so I get up,
I waddle towards Mommy and Daddy's room,
blankie in hand.
I pause.
Daddy's standing in his underwear
silhouetted by a refrigerator light.
He raises a bottle to his lips.
When my mother was pregnant with me
I wonder if she hoped,
as so many mothers do,
that her baby boy
would grow up to be
just
like
his
father.
Credits
Writer(s): Patrick Roche
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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