My Father’s Shot Glass

My Father’s Shot Glass

So engrossed was he

            in that miniature object,

                        gazing into it so attentively

                                    with such devotion and attachment,

‘til he carelessly neglected his

            duties that were his true passage

                        to manhood.

He could’ve nursed and cradled

            me within his fingertips,

                        sung me a goo-goo-da-da

                                    drunken lullaby while gazing

            into my eyes for his reflection,

                        telling me stories of the past, present,

                                    futures of us, as he realized

            that I was the best part of him

                        and he a God in my eyes.

He could’ve placed me to his lips

            and threw his head back

                        and consumed his fears ‘til

                                    the very last drop

            and raised me, his son, to the sun

                        and spun us around

                                    ‘til we were hysterically

            Delirious with joyful giggles

                        then fallen to the ground

                                    with me enthusiastically


                        “Again! Again!”

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