I just emulate my father,
Want to wear the barrel he wore.
He would ingest an orange at dawn
And swung his pickax
Or fueled engines all day,
And I would fail him per diem
By rejecting mathematics,
And misinterpreting Sandburg.
In my most desperate times,
When I sold my morals and shouldn't have,
Disregarded the faint pangs of decency here within,
The chief image,
Emblazoned upon the theater of my consciousness,
Is that I love him.
And in this stagnant, moneyless pit
That may be called the present,
I remark in my head
That I never tell him this.
Want to wear the barrel he wore.
He would ingest an orange at dawn
And swung his pickax
Or fueled engines all day,
And I would fail him per diem
By rejecting mathematics,
And misinterpreting Sandburg.
In my most desperate times,
When I sold my morals and shouldn't have,
Disregarded the faint pangs of decency here within,
The chief image,
Emblazoned upon the theater of my consciousness,
Is that I love him.
And in this stagnant, moneyless pit
That may be called the present,
I remark in my head
That I never tell him this.