Why can’t we talk? I asked my father last night
Is it because you refuse to,
and I think you are a foreign language
I can not understand
Is it because I hate your heavy sighs,
And you can’t take the curl of my
lip on the receiver
I said in revolt,
Fathers and sons are suppose to have conversations,
Why can’t we have one?
He said, fathers and sons are not supposed to have
conversations, they're supposed to understand
each other, look at each other, smile and walk along railroad tracks and throw rocks in the water. But we never did those things,
does that mean we have nothing to say?
My first memory of him was holding me
up to the light that poured through the window.