You are trying hard to rectify the past
to undo the fatherless evenings
to know the four kids you really didn’t know
you’re still fucked up
over
your brother, he
drowned in the lake beneath your small eyes, your little hands
your mom and dad
didn’t comfort you
instead, they took in more foster kids
and gave you even
less attention
You married young
Mom was only 19
you probably knew it wasn’t love as
you drank frozen lime daiquiris at hotel bars
at 4:30 in the afternoon
with the Black Bumper Mennonites who signed
your paycheck,
who owned the eighteen wheeler you drove
Your wife was at home
nursing twin daughters while your oldest
watched The Wonder Years or
smashed matchbox cars with a hammer
and my brother was out being angry somewhere
On the second to last day of the year
You tell me how bad you feel about not being there for me,
for us
as you polish off a Southern Comfort and OJ
as your hand is on your third wife’s thigh
I nod, it’s ok,
finish my eighth or ninth beer
and you ask about the girlfriend coming tomorrow
Dad, there is no forgetting, but there is accepting
