Monday, November 12, 2012

untitled


I watched a father watch his son, and explain to him what he saw
Ceilings people and food
The father tries to clean his boys face
"youre dirty, you're dirty," he says amidst squalls and wails
It all subsides
Save for the light in the fathers eyes
His pride
His fire
His sire lies in a grave
But he is here
In front of his world
Trying to clean the dirt and spittle
Too proud to get off at the stop he's supposed to 

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