August 23, 2024

Found this poem in a box in storage. Not sure of the date, but I am guessing it is June 2005-2007, as the house it references is clearly our Livonia home, and the concert video is almost certainly Morrissey's Who Put The 'M' in Manchester or James' Getting Away With It . . . Live, both of which were played a lot during that period. Brought back a lot of smiles, and still a pretty damn good poem, if I may say so myself, even if the kid is a man, and the father has a lot less stress in his life.

A Father Contemplates Father's Days

Father's Day looms,

Leading me, like many dads,

To question my labor.

--------------------

The grass grows several inches high,

A conspiracy of rain and work,

But it makes it easier to spout clichés:

"It's a jungle out there, son."

--------------------

The dryer's broken down again.

The profanity-induced do-it-yourself

Fails to fix or even convince

That "this is how it was in the old days."

---------------------

The checkbook's too many dollars off,

A discrepancy that comes back month after month.

Fending off frustration, I mutter

Bad jokes about checks and balances.

------------------------

I look around my kingdom:

Lazy-boy ripped,

Painted walls peeling,

Toilet not flushing,

Screens with holes,

Light in washroom dead.

-------------------------

How does a dad get to even one chore

When driven by the need to work

And the kid's needs are even more?

----------------------

So, instead of contemplating these tasks

My family and I watch concert videos:

The band I adore

Is now his group du jour

And we bond in a way

I hope will always stay.

-------------------------

I air guitar.

My heir guffaws.

-------------------------

To watch him alternate

Between toy guitar and Tigers' bat

I know that in his hands

Are legacies I've bequeathed:

For that I am grateful.

---------------------

Damn the grass.