FagDad
FagDad is a city
Someplace somewhere
He owns it
He belongs here
It's on a river of time
From then to now
Unspecified questions
With fearful discoveries
In the still wild west
Where men are men
And afraid to tell the truth
FagDad is busy every day
Making meals and house chores
With an occasional thought
No thinking all the time
About the children
And grandchildren
Now he thought he did
Years ago when he was
Getting angry at the world
For hating him with no acceptance
Hiding behind respectability
Correct politics on public media
Lying every day just like
Every man
FagDad was never very dependable
He wasn't dependable in anything
Or for anybody in his life
His father was dependable
He went to work and played golf
In his mind when work bored
FagDad hated golf when he played
He played to please his father
That should have been his clue
There would be other attempts
For his father to love him
Nothing worked but he understood
That his father was constantly alone
Except for his scotch and soda
FagDad is always tight in space
And his mother there you are
Reading a newspaper on a loveseat
In the old times smoking a cigarette
Wanting one years after she quit
Asking him for a smoke he doesn't
Every space is wider than the first
Looking up at the rock through squares
Of the bay window across the room
Memories of who sat where or there
Her coffee with cream and sugar
With a cigarette drifting in what's left
Never acknowledging him outside
Of what she wanted him to be no
He could never be what he was
FagDad wakes up in bed
Watching himself becoming
The sounds of traffic far away
Going where he can't wanting
What he'll never be in still forests
Picking bark bits from tall trees
In hair stands thin trees
Close to each other on hill tops
In this space where he reaches
His own city where he is
Great vistas that peel away
His wanting and his beliefs
That become inflamed
As he dunks himself to put out
His desires that agree with nobody
Barry G. Wick
Part of over 600 poems
https://agereasonmistake.blogspot.com
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