When you looked at me with
an earnest grin and said,
"I am adult Adult,"
my heart swelled with love
and pity.

You cracked another one open
and poured it out with grace.
I looked the other way
and prayed you'd find
the elixir of youth this time.
You search for it daily
in your endless supply
of sixteen ounce cans.

I wish I could revive your dead father,
but I am not the sorceress you said I am.
I have a guilty face, as do
the boys who sneak into your room
on holiday nights.

I point to the sky
and ask you to look at the early moon.
You call it another shade of blue
and ridicule the sky's nothingness.