dad never once
missed a day
of work
which is more
than i can claim
on another fake sick-day
sitting on a beanbag chair
downtown library
with carver
and two
flasks.
if we had
anything to do with each other
old man
i'd drink you
under a bar-stool
i'd tell you
i remember
how sometimes
on the way out the door
to the bar
you'd playfully grab my wrist
just so
making my hand
slam shut into
a fist
the ten bucks
i stole
from mom's purse
to buy that spring-loaded
forearm-strengthener
from dan kamn thinking
maybe
if i ever could
get my hand open
you'd
stick around.