I remember
my Dad coming in through the front door
late at night
blood stained all down
the front of his shirt
from a big open cut
right in between his eyes.
I ran to him and hugged onto his leg.
"What happened Dad?"
He patted my head
and took off his leather jacket."
"Ahhh, I got into a fight son."
"YOU DID!?"
"Yeah...some ******* busted a bottle on my face. See?"
He said, showing me the jagged cut.
"You should see the other guy. I busted him up real good, boy."
"But then why are you bleeding?"
"Cause it was my fault, I wasn't paying attention. Hit me when I wasn't looking.
See that's why I'm always telling you...be aware of your surroundings...at all times.
When you don't pay attention, this is what happens."
"Let's get the guns Dad...let's go handle this ****."
And he laughed
that infamous gut-shaking laugh of his
walking down the hall
into the bathroom
to clean himself up
and lick his wounds.