Head Voice Father My My
for James - RIP
She does look like me
Long tall drink of water
Legs and fingers that seem to never end
I didn’t know what to expect
Pacing Grip’s porch
At 9 p.m.
Puffing my fifth cigarette in
20 minutes.
They were four hours late,
And I thought
Maybe they changed
Their mind.
Maybe they weren’t coming.
Maybe it was a joke that ole Grip
Played on me,
And it would be something she’d do
Cause you know she never took to me
Dating her best friend
And I guess I can understand that.
Now.
But then the car pulled up,
And they got out;
My ex wife
Heavier
Older
But still just as beautiful
As the last day I saw her.
This time
There were no tears
To mar her face.
And then out stepped
A vision of me
With all that mess of hair
And curt motions.
My child.
Youngest of seven.
Last I saw her
She was four
And talking up a storm.
“Read me cindegrella
Daddy
Read me cindegrella
Again”
As she’d pull the orange ET doll
I gave her tight
And look at me with
Broken guitar string eyes.
Her eyes
Just the same
Now
23 years later
And they locked on me
And made me feel
All those years of running
And lord,
I am tired.
Took her to the park the next day
To talk.
Stopped to get me a beer on the way
At Sam’s little corner store.
I asked her if she thought I was an alcoholic
She said no.
She lied.
Full of spit and fire,
And those eyes
Never left me as she asked me
Everything under the hot Mississippi sun:
Why did I leave them
And
Did I miss them
And
How many children do I have
And
Where do my people come from
And what was it like dating a white woman in the 70s…
I tried to give her answers
It was the least she deserved
And the most I could give.
She showed me all the things she’d done
Movies and books and songs and poems and stuff like that
And I was so proud of this daughter
This stranger
Standing in front of me.
I wanted to stay longer
but the longer I stayed
The harder it was to leave.
I felt the years pressing down on me
And I didn’t want
To cry in front of my baby
Not yet
Anyway.
I sat down
When I got back to this one room
I call all mine
pulled out my guitar
And played a song
I wrote for her
When she was seven
And far away from me.
She’s never heard it.
I wonder
If she’s ever gonna
Put me
In a poem?