Travels with my Father
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I’m looking for my innocence
It’s gone missing
I don’t know just when
But it is definitely gone.		   He races about inside his head
Mounting big deals of little value
The man of the moment
Never in the moment.		   In my boredom I turn
To find a mother with infant
Up close and in my space
Causing me to take a startled breath.
         
You assume I’m speaking
Of my sexual innocence n’est pas
Oh that was long ago
And not painful as I recall.		   He’s gotten here
Knowing the inside of airports
Better than himself
A high flyer losing altitude.		   Whereupon the little darling
Reaches out her arms
And is air born in an instant
Landing upon my chest.
         

The hint something is amiss
Comes before my mirror
As I discover no one there
At least no one I recognize.

The guy there is two-dimensional
Rather flat with cartoon features
A representation of me but
A poseur to be sure.

  

Mind you this is me talking about me
In a disembodied sort of way
Which explains my situation

Precisely.

My mind is playing this fugue
As I stand in the check out line
Of my super market
Waiting my life away.

  

I quickly wrap her in my arms
As she nestles under my chin
Keeping my mouth from hanging open
Because it is propped upon her head.

The Mom smiles up at me
Content as if she were the child
There will be no sudden hand off
That much is clear.
Image of a river