Father comes to me in dreams
a night phantom with conundrums I never
solve in the light of day

still he is there, lurking, locked
in memory's vault--a safety deposit box
for which I have no key

but who I have chosen to be
is an untenable version of a me
he will never see

for a dead man did not truly write
my script--he's not even watching
as I walk upon the stage