Your father used to put
a folded white handkerchief

in the top pocket
of your jacket

and combed your hair
which he’d plastered

with Brylcream first
and even dampened

your eyebrows
to get them to lay down

with his spittled finger
and took you with him

to the movies
to watch cowboy

or war films
or now and then

those romantic ones
with kissing

and too much talk
which although good

you would avoid
if you could

and he took you
to your granddad and gran

and you sat there
bored out of your brain

watching the goldfish
swim round and round

the glass fish bowl
and him talking

about this or that
and once you recall

at a Friday evening treat
at the movies

he’d run off into
the dark

and you sat
watching the film

until an usherette came
and said

your daddy’s had
a choking fit

and he’s in the foyer
having a rest in a chair

and so you missed
the end of the film

as she took you off
to see him there.