What does a grown-*** man
do?

Does he wear a suit
and
tie?

Does he fish on the weekends?

Does he go to work in the morning,
and deal with constant pressures
on his head?

I think a grown-*** man
kicks his kids out
when
they're not acting correct.

I think he cries
when they sleep
in places that aren't home,
and scrounge
pennies
from their pockets
to get some Micky D's.

A grown-*** man
loves his life
because this is the only one he has
no matter
how
bad.

When he goes to work
he listens to jazz
because the trumpets
remind of him of his
baby's
gurgles
and
that child going hungry
isn't an option.

His wife and him fight
because he thinks she's not
raising the kids right,
when she really is,
but he's really got fear in his heart,
the good kind,
the kind that makes him compassionate
when he kisses his
baby daughter's
lips
before the sun has come up.

When I think of a grown-*** man
I think of my father,
even when he's ****** up
to the nth degree
and I can say I love him
because he is the tree
and he has carefully
tended my plot of earth
even when he dealt with a dearth
of love.