6.17.2007

Happy Father's Day, Biggy




RAIN

From the living room window,
I see my three-year-old Lola,
coming up the road on her father’s shoulders.
It’s late June, raining hard,
and she’s wearing Santa pajamas.
Only, she’s taken off the shirt,
and her skin’s a white flag
against the dark clouds that douse
her fiery curls. She’s wrapped
the shirt around his head
like a blindfold, and she steers
him--right, left, straight--
as he lurches one way, then another, arms
extended into this implausible world
of theirs, where I’d be welcome
if I knew the language, if
I weren’t dumbstruck—
stuck in this cool, far-flung
silence, while in some nameless city
my own father curses under an umbrella,
still trying to keep his wingtips dry.

5 comments:

A said...

Happy Father's Day Biggy!

Jennifer said...

Happy Father's Day, Biggy! I hope Tania puts out!

ads. said...

T- I think you "put out" a lovely poem. As a dad, that would be enough...but, as a guy, well.... Happy Fathers Day, Biggy.

Anne-Davnes said...

Love the picture and love the poem. Your work transports me.

Happy Father's Day Biggy!

mamoo said...

all children should be so lucky as to have a dad like greg.

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