2013-04-09T20:33:49-07:00April 9th, 2013|Parenthood|

The injustice of not being allowed on the roof

Today you welded your being
into a molten rod of anguish
unable to accept
you were not allowed
to follow your dad
up the ladder to the roof

which quickly extended
to your refusal to accept anything
such as water
or that your Auntie Charley’s name
begins with “c”

but like any storm
the clouds move on
and your mood is just a story
you tell me on our way
to feed the ducks

you tell the part about the boots
the mud and the carpet
and you ask me to tell the part
about how I wiped your nose
on your shirt and told you
the neighbour’s cat
was on your side

then when we’re all out of bread
and the ducks have flown
to the other side of the lake
I suggest we go to Bandida’s for a bite

you ask me
where is Bandida’s, mama

I tell you it’s on Commercial Drive
and you look up at me
like a benevolent old monk
who has never raised his voice
and you say

Commercial Drive
that sounds nice.

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