When I used to think
About my dad,
Not much came up,
But I remember
Getting excited,
Every time my mom
Picked up the phone
And it was my him,
On the other line,
Asking when he
Can pick me up,
Scheming for
A good time

It felt almost like
A school trip,
On those yellow
Trucks without
Ac but a stereo
System that would
Shake the windows
Of the new houses
I get to see.

Always an adventure,
Always something new
To experience,
Always good.

It’s as if the bad
Was concealed
Behind the curtain
That just closed up
The actors of a
Very corny drama,

It was hard to come
To him in times of need,
Always working,
Always busy,
Always in love,
Always living a life,

But lately,
He has been helping
Me kick stones out
Of my path.

“Necesitas algo”

“Estás bien mi niño””

“Si tú eres mi hijo,
Esto es lo que va pasar”

If you are my son,
He says.

I fall down from exhaustion,
And accept his apology.