something about being out of the parents house…
hindsight sees better, the rear view mirror
shows objects closer than they appear,
how long should I be looking backwards for?
don’t forget to check your blind spots.

I was teaching my brother how to drive,
determined to be gentle, and as always
determined to be what my father was not.
“he’s doing better” my mother chides.
I am not as abrasive as I was once.
the river of the household
finally wore me down. I let my father,
his changes, and what continues
wash over.

the first time I buy my own bottle of liqour
it ends with my mother telling me
“don’t let this become a problem
because we can’t afford a good rehab”.
“don’t be like me” my father says
and he has said it a million times
as if I need telling. all my adult life
I’m doing surgery on myself
trying to remove the things he taught me.
to love the man...