We sat untroubled
in the back yard
a warm dusk
the heat from the sun
radiating upward from
the cement patio
it felt so good
being with him
there - one on one
like a divine consultation
at the end of the day
father and son
but we couldn’t get past
the small things
he inhaled and swallowed
his bourbon on the rocks
washing away his fears
his hand waved
shouting, “hello!”
to the woman next door
then whispering under
his breath -
“you ******* - you,”
his twisted stare grabbed
me with his fire
I froze and deliberated
why he said things like this
at times like this
I couldn’t fix
such a gorgeous evening
that was damaged now
a ball of fire setting low
into the trees
he blamed the war
and grumbled
about his absent father
and his neglected childhood
so unforgiving and foul
puking his guts
on the neighbor and
the warm cement
goring anyone
who stepped into his range
I stared into the woods
while the screen door
squealed like a pig
abandoned on the square
avoiding the horns
of an angry bull.