I had a dream about
my father
At least I think it
was him
I was talking into
a dark room
Could see the red tip
glow of his cigarette
Smell beer and fresh dirt
Consumed by a mix of
emotions
I couldn’t form any
words beyond
“What are you doing here”
Long, frustrating silence
like most of our
relationship
And when I neared giving
up and turning away
He whispered
“Don’t give up like I did
You fight the ******* darkness”
I jolted awake with
the bang from his
gun
Tears streaming from
my eyes
My most meaningful
conversation with my
father
was a dream