My father has
Plagued this
Earth for 80
Years now.
Lying, whoring,
Driving away
Everyone he
Claimed to
Love with
His selfish,
Petty, sadistic
Ways. To this
Late day
He calls and
Invites his
Grown
Kids over.
Then before
We can even
Sit, he lights
Up and blows
Cancer stick
Smoke into
Our faces.
Still, he’s
Creeping
Up on the
Grave, so
For a while
I made an
Effort and
Visited him.
The last time
He stood there
In his boxers,
In his kitchen,
Puffing cancer
Into my face,
Then he opened
His voluminous
1980s fridge and
Pointed to a pizza
Box, the only thing
In there, besides a
Carton of milk. The
box held one
Last slice,
The lone leftover
From the pizza I’d
Brought to him and
Shared with him a
Week before. “Hey,
Don’t leave stuff
In my refrigerator,”
He said with his
Gruff, low voice.
Then it hit me.
All week, while
I’d been slaving,
He sat there
Fuming in
His kitchen,
Obsessing on
That pizza box
“Taking up the
Space” in his
Refrigerator.
I thought about
Asking him if
He really wanted
To spend his last
Days that way,
But I’d tried to reach
Him too many times
Over the years. And
The look on his grave
Face told me not to
Even try.
— FB
Musings, Mutterings, and Condemnations 