Dear Dad, Can You See Me?

I walked in on him.
I couldn’t tell if he had been,
smokin, snortin, or sticken
buff buff then passed glass
shattering the life of him.
He was,
folded over toilet bowls, without his clothes,
I moved alittle closer.

His eyes rolled back,
And I hoped they had taken him back
before clogged pores,
dirty needles,
and arm tracks.
Back to the remember whens,
Cause I remember when you wore suits and ties to dress fly,
Kissed me goodbye
Because you took pride in providing
working late nights.

I moved closer, enough to see that
His nose was sucked close
But open as wide as bullet holes
So big to where I can see…
Your brain rotting, blood clotting, soul dying.

I remember when they said,
Your legs were faster than you
Called you Road Run Em,
Literally, smokin em.
Or when you threw balls across football fields,
had rods of steel in your knees,
and still stole bases.
The elite athlete…
Smokin it all away,
I mean literally.

How many more times will I have to see you this way?
Or will you have to see me through glossy blurred vision,
cutting insition into my brain…
it’s repulsive,
regurgitating
remembering you this way.
But I’ll stay as a daughter should.

You know they say,
I smile like you around my mouth,
I keep my fist balled- knuckled up for action,
like you,
ready to knock a nigga out.
You,
They say I’m,
Blunt in my demeanor.
Natural shit talker,
Overly competitive – competitively speaking…
Writing letters of scripted curves the way yours do.
I remember when I admired you.
And when your contacts were intact and you could see me,
protect me,
love me better…
as a father should.

Now babygirl just got
Old scabs picked over…
I find myself melting to the floor
We go pulse
For pulse
And I’m closer now than I’ve ever been before.
Sitting at the knee of your knees
Daddy,
Hey daddy,
Please….
Just tell me one more,
of your remember when stories.

ebstewart,2006
sweated techniques publishing
all rights reserved