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My Father
Spent his life not drinking
he’d say he’d have been an alcoholic
the way he guzzled soft drink
munched through bags of lollies
I scoff biscuits, licorice, chocolate, tried alcohol
then took twenty years to stop
it would make a better story
if he’d pissed beneath my door
distributed thick ears, wasted his pay packets
but he took us on holidays every year
kept to the speed limit paid taxes
full fare on trains and buses
never littered and spent half his life it seems
staring out of photos frightened
five sixths of his life had gone
by the time he was the age that I am now
he didn’t like the end
those last ten years of heart attacks
having to sit motionless in his chair
or the angina shark would bite him
I don’t know much about the start
he had one favourite teacher
he worshipped his mother and her dad
he enjoyed the war
although that was mostly as a guard
and he’d talk of tennis friends
but they’d finally come to visit
and have sun scabs on their foreheads
or turkey necks, he’d shake their hands
or kiss their fuzzy cheeks
they’d talk and drink a pot of tea
and then they’d leave, he’d wave
rub at his right eye
then sigh and walk inside.
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