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it must be time to leave stage ten

attracted still to older men

a little late for surrogates

dancing in his silhouette

the figure high up on the ridge

the water washed away the bridge

I try I do the best I can

I hope thatís what it means to be a man

 

for my boys
I hope I taught you something
I hope I did the right thing
I hope you have no fear
you gotta know

I was short on examples

I was flying with a blindfold

but hey

I was here

 

 

© 2018 by Rob Siegel. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

07 Ė For My Boys

 

my father died when I was ten
it did not really hurt me then
like a stone I soon became
pummeled smooth by wind and rain
stumbled through those early years
a well of pain but dry of tears
the words nobody ever spoke
a dream from which I never quite awoke
 
so here I am washed on the beach
the perfect shell just out of reach
dad still waiting to be found
maybe here when Iím around
nearly fifty years away
flummoxed still on fatherís day
by the neckties cards and things
oh the burned breakfast children bring
 
for my boys
I hope I taught you something
I hope I did the right thing
I hope I did ok
 
so Iím sorry if I was restrained
didnít give a damn about soccer games
unlikely for a game of catch
a fundamental mismatch
of all the things that I should face
preoccupied by time and space
a world of almost endless need
men suck it up and women bleed

a friend of mine once said I should

admit I had a tough childhood

its hard for me to think that way

Jewish boys turn out ok

a mother who was nearly saint

I grew up without much complaint

sniffed my truth out on the ground

you learn not to miss whatís not around

 

 

 
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