life.

never moving backward;

you run away from me with
this reckless smile
that sometimes I think is
the saddest beautiful smile because
there's something so fleeting
in watching it so spontaneously
and genuinely react and change
tongue pressed against teeth
the hissing sound of joy
of giggled air explosion
into uncontrolled laughter
and squeals

no moment frozen in memory
just continual movement forward
time's effort to leave me behind and
you won't even realize it
until you're old like me and you
see how like a mushroom I can
only be the stem and you looking
out from the bulb won't see
I've atrophied and pushed you
into the future where beneath
the shadows I watched you
grow and

                 even now the years have
begun piling up and soon you will
not remember what it was like to be
held and I'll always have that memory
like a phantom pain watching you walk
so lovely on your own but recalling
how it was in those beautiful days when
you needed me and raised your arms
to call for my embrace and breathed
the slightest sign of relief when your
head rested on my shoulder
and I could whisper in your ear
that daddy loves you

Stokes (Car tires screeching in the icy snow)

car tires screeching in the icy
snow covered roads below my window
remind me of delivering papers
with my father in the old Grand Marque
with no traction stuck in that drive way
for hours can't push up
and the owner is out there digging away
for us and pushing, and finally we gunned it
and struggled to the top, waving good-bye
and him sweating and waving too until
we were back down at the bottom with
him again having failed to take the hill,
shit piss this is getting old, 3 hours behind
schedule and we were throwing papers
that disappeared into 2 feet of snow anyway,
no use, never to be read, one last push
and burnt rubber winter snow smell,
finally breaking the trenchline and
on our way,
only to realize when sliding down
the other side of the hill that neither of us
had gotten out to help the poor guy,
we had just sat in the car and watched him
hack and slash away,
man,
we had good laugh out of that,
and no Christmas tip,
I'm sure.

March

25 days from 27
years, with children looking
up to daddy, job, meatloaf tuesdays
playground afterschool hurry home
from work, spring flowers in the air
hugging mommy,
and I'm so... old...so much older than
I should be when fathers will die after me
in the cold empty sad world of early mondays
coffee ford Taurus roaring like kittens
in the window as I leave, placing my foot
firmly between the door creaking shut
and outside--

I can't remember my fathers face when I was young
and he was towering above purple sky,
atheletic, throwing baseball back and forth
with old softball mit legendary,
I'd run my hands through it,
wonder at how it never missed,
he never missed,
holding his hand along mountain roads-

grass brushing cars silently,
I scraped my knee, blood and bruise
so we sat on old forgotten dug out bench,
grass above my waist,
watching the old ball game roll along
where my father was the hero
at 3rd and short,
bugs screeched loudly in the root jungle
cheering, in the hollow pocono heat

we've got miles back to walk
on the oh long ago road of childhood
and fatherhood,
where I forget to grow old
catching pop-ups
dad fires
higher than the sun

October childhood

There's so little to remember
of the summer
as the autumn air begins to sting
our breath and our memory,

My stomach lifted
back through time
by butterflies
and I'm 9 years old,
sitting against my father,
my new hat
pulled tight over my eyes,
blue with gold trim,
stiff and proud,
we're waiting on the pretend smells
of wood, dirt and leather,
the passage of time,
these 17 years,

still-
somehow-
wind circles that
long gone coliseum
with diagonal walkways
and crumbling concrete edifice,
left to history unkind,
and memories golden,

My father plants them like a seed,
a red, powder blue, blue, magenta seed,
it's like magic
and suffering,
and happiness,
and defeat,
and childhood,
and victory
and belief restored
promises kept
through a dream
and
it's October
and it's life.