my memories of you
echo with the scents
of mulch and bamboo
of breyers seasonal blackberry ice cream
the streams of car wash suds down the driveway
your stale sweat of late night business travel
to places I’d see myself later in life
in the arms of other men less deserving of my love
of beer on your stache and breath I’m still so fond
of waking to your return
and the safety
in having that
“well, they do say that you marry your father.
and sometimes your father is too nice.”
mom
“i love you daddy”
tweety
