my father
prairie borne and fostered
on bleach blonde peroxide
drag racing down gravel roads
road hockey with the boys
sticks in the mud
rascal kid with his bare feet
he hid from the cops
with his older brother
cuz the child welfare folks
came looking
they started running
farm to farm hiding
behind a hay barrel
in the neighbour’s barn
cuz the farms out there
used to stretch for miles
i used to ask about those days
and he would shake his head
say, i miss those hills
you should’ve seen it in autumn
my dad –
he could tell you anecdotes
frantic footnotes of
old hollywood gossip
country music
stuff that would
make you freeze —
then cackle
that woman didn’t age well, i tell you
that guy nearly killed himself
exasperation — it’s a remake of the ‘67 original
kept the grass green and neat
did dishes every morning
5:30 A.M. clinking of
glass unheard by poor ears
car engine starting
morning coffee run
back-hug and kiss
wave goodbye on
the drive to work
you had to learn a nice way
to shout at him eventually
he lost his ears to
nerve damage
diabetes
the new epidemic he’d said
i found him one night
bowed over the
stairs heaving
sputtering
barefoot with
cement lungs and
a static heart
my daddy’s history
like a worn blanket
he managed to grow old
and never grow up
even when his feet were tired
he would run
