2.1.2014

pinched face, tight lips

hands pressed hard

at the sides

it must have been hard

to be Frank, when your

sons

don’t respect you, even

hate you and call you

down

while you struggle to

put the food on the

table

and your wife is dying

from the cancer in

front of you

and your hand can’t

hold from the bottle

before

you put more into

the glass and again

again

life wandering away

right in front of

you

on the long drives to

do business while

thirst

rips at you and you

cry into the windshield.

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