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If I painted a picture of you I think I’d call it Daniel and his Favorite Cigarette and I’d delay passing the sugar because you couldn’t wait four more seconds for your daughter to finish her story. I would buy all of the newspapers in town with the crummy headline *Fauster & Brown Up in Sales for 3rd Week Straight* and burn them all the way through to the sports section just to watch your favorite team’s numbers go up in flames. I would rewrite all those Father’s Day cards, remove the empty seat in the third row on the left from my poetry reading that I had reserved, stop putting new batteries in the remote when you complains. But of course I won’t. I’ll just make a scene at Sunday brunch after we finish saying prayers to my dead big brother at his grave, that dash like a tattoo on my bones— Yes, Dad, I could have worn a tie but I like the fact that I still smell like yesterday cause I know my brother will never know the scent of tomorrow. I will only curse between sips of coffee and I’ll stroke my sisters hair so she knows at least someone has been listening these past ten years.
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
Ten Years Later
If I painted a picture of you I think I’d call it Daniel and his Favorite Cigarette and I’d delay passing the sugar because you couldn’t wait four more seconds for your daughter to finish her story. I would buy all of the newspapers in town with the crummy headline *Fauster & Brown Up in Sales for 3rd Week Straight* and burn them all the way through to the sports section just to watch your favorite team’s numbers go up in flames. I would rewrite all those Father’s Day cards, remove the empty seat in the third row on the left from my poetry reading that I had reserved, stop putting new batteries in the remote when you complains. But of course I won’t. I’ll just make a scene at Sunday brunch after we finish saying prayers to my dead big brother at his grave, that dash like a tattoo on my bones— Yes, Dad, I could have worn a tie but I like the fact that I still smell like yesterday cause I know my brother will never know the scent of tomorrow. I will only curse between sips of coffee and I’ll stroke my sisters hair so she knows at least someone has been listening these past ten years.
sophie-herzing
Written by
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
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