little before five on a tuesday
i work third shift
should be asleep
on that mattress over there
corner of the basement
but i'm on the couch
in the dark
working through a
tepid case of
bud light
trying to decide
if i should laugh or cry
over the last decade.
door opens
lights flicked on
my son
month shy of
two years old
comes plodding in.
wife goes upstairs
we don't talk much these days
this is how she says
time to get up.
tuesday nights
she watches tv
at a friend's house
i hear the front door close
car start.
what doin' daddy?
he asks
sing-song voice
picking up a can
off the floor.
what this?
he hands it to me.
he's never seen me
drinking
drunk a few times
but i had this
pollyanna notion
i'd be able to
hide it from him.
these are daddy's merit badges,
i say.
merit badges,
he parrots
disturbingly
clear.
ivan do?
he asks
as i finish off the one
in my hand.
not until you're twelve,
i smile
pick him up
playfully bite his neck
spear two hot dogs with a fork
and hold them over the stove
for our dinner.