I have an image
very clear to me
It’s not sunny,
But we are outside
Playing ‘hotbox’ with dad.
He stands in one spot
Because he can throw and catch anything that comes his way
From one us, without moving.
Unless it gets past him
Then he has one of the little ones run after it and get it for him.
And there goes number 8,
Running up to dad to hug him
Despite the fact the rest of us are in a heated round of hotbox,
Running bases and trying to outrun dad’s arm.
We all have to wait on her to be done
But she’s little and dad isn’t in a hurry for her to be done
Finally we play again.
Knowing dad cheats to let the little ones win.
And even though he never drops his Mark V beer,
While wearing his army fatigues,
cuffed above the boot top
with the elastic bands he wore in the army.
Sporting a five o’clock shadow
That we never see allowed to reach it’s full potential of a beard.
I see him