Posts Tagged ‘fathers’

I saw a city
out on the horizon
of an endless prairie.
Grand skyscrapers
buildings of beautiful architecture
but it began to crumble.
One by one, buildings
folded into dust.

There was a house
it was important to me
the way things just are
in dreams.
The house was not
where I needed to be
but inside
I knew there was a black girl
waiting for me under a blanket.
As I tried to reach the house I grew
with each step
my body became gigantic
until like Alice
I could never fit into the door.
So I grew so big
I traversed the prairie
in one step.

I woke in a van.
It was the black van my father
had converted to a motor-home
for our family vacations.
It had a big dirtbike
painted on the side.
Only my father was there
driving silently
my fighting brothers where not there
nor was my anxious mother.

Suddenly we stopped.
A girl from my highschool
walked onto the van
she grabbed a handbag that was left on the seat
then she got off into the arms
of her black boyfriend
who wore a cadets uniform.
As my father drove us onward
I realized we were driving through
a training ranch for cadets.
A horse galloped through a banner
with a touristy quip like
“Y’all Come Back!”
Two cadets fought
in a fenced enclosure
with bayonets and white hats.

We drove under a gate
a wild First Nations girl
skated on the frozen mud
long black hair behind a white mask
she grinned at me knowingly
and I also spied a father and son
sharpening spears
preparing to hunt bison.
As my father drove the van
down an icy hill
the First Nations girl
skated alongside us
a spear in her hand
a wild smile
behind her mask.


I had to live through the experience of my father being excited about the
Android phone.
It was years ago,
but the memory still traumatizes me.

He had to, in turn, experience my distaste with my own
smartphone ‘ownership’.
I don’t know if that experience was as impactful
for him…

To me the two poles are a satisfactory metaphor
for our relationship.
A father who loves technology,
A son who despises it.

Do not take this to mean I dislike my father,
Though an observer may come to the conclusion,
that he is more excited about his object sons
(his other sons, his RV, his guitars, his tech).

As I am more inspired by my subject fathers
(my muse, my gods, my games).
But that is the way of things,
I just cannot force myself to love my phone.