MY FATHER
,

MY FATHER

My father is asleep when I phone him

Yesterday afternoon at 2:30PM – to say hello,

After many weeks. I feel obligated –

He doesn’t feel anything – “Just tired,”

he says - “Same as always.”

I ask him how he’s feeling.

“With my hands,” he says.

I ask him what he’s been up to.

“Not a hell of a lot,” he says.

I ask him if he’s heard from brother.

“Haven’t seen him in weeks,” he says – “You?”

“Months,” I say. “He works too hard.”

“I worry about him,” he says. “Too shy –

probably never meet a girl and get married.”

“Do you worry about me?”

“Not really,” he says.

“Always knew you could take care of yourself.”

Silence.

“Sometimes I wish

somebody would worry about me –

I don’t trust men.”

Silence.

He doesn’t ask me what I mean by this,

He knows.

I ask my father, “How’s your job?”

“It’s just a job,” he says –

“I push a broom around in an elementary school –

at night – dreaming – I’m somewhere else.”

“I understand,” I say.

“I sit in production meetings all day –

watching other people realizing their dreams.”

“Too bad you gave up on the acting,” he says.

“You were going to be an actress – make your mother proud.”

Silence.

“Too bad you gave up on your family,” I say.

“You were my father – you turned your back on me.”

Silence.

“Well I gotta run,” I tell him.

“Got a meeting to get to.”

“Me too,” he says,

“Got to get to work.”

“Bye”

“Bye.”

“Love you”

Silence.