little yellow teeth
stained by years of coffee and cigarettes
layered like sedimentary rock
wire brush mustache
on a face that betrays his years
a reflection of a potential that went unrealized
such an angry man
even his words are burdened
with equal parts guilt and rage
"do as I say kid"
"because I said so"
he must view himself a tough, strong man
despite being an upper middle aged diabetic
possessing a physique
that calls to mind a woman in her third trimester
his bitterness, his depression, his emptiness
permeated every layer of life
imagine a son
who grew up confused, frightened
not knowing when, how, or why
a display of aggression would occur
wildly disproportionate to whatever perceived transgression
my sins weren't fictional, i needed better representation

a one-by-two
a measurement of lumber
wrapped in athletic tape
an display, a warning readily available
a disciplinary tool for any occasion
when broken across my ***
a lesson was given but rarely learned
we never communicated then
we barely speak now
if only for the lack of something civil to say
should platitudes serve as a father and son bond
then our collective stubbornness is worth a mention
if blame needs placing
and i was taught this behavior
can i learn to forgive and love
such a below average model for God?
right on cue
his catholic upbringing screams in my ear
and my irish rises
an irish familiar to him
the only thing we share
he could have kept that to himself