Told Pops Truth

by Steven J. Serafiani

Just spoke to my pops,
been a good month
haven’t seen him in longer.
He could sense sadness in his
boy and asked.

Now,
in my early to mid twenties living
in coastal cities away from home,
I would respond with good great fine
just to keep his mind at ease
but I struggled mightily with
work and love and money;
this time though, when he asked,
I was done with the good
great fine, time for truth.
looking for work again, broke, loveless-
he paused,

“Are ya happy?”

My face crunched holding back dual hydrant caps,
cleared my throat and
said no.
told him I felt lost in a society full of
pin-up push, told him
I didn’t want a career mediocre, that obese time waste,
and I can’t find a gal who
I feel circular with. Marriage seemed myth.
told him that I just wanted to write, that
I don’t need lipstick material things to satisfy. Told him
that 30 scares the shit out of me and that
I felt foolish and that I let him down, however
that means.
told him all; a fear memoir.
This man, a man who worked post office 3rd shift for
35 years, married with two kids listened spry and
said,
“I just want you to be happy. However you get there. That’s all I want.”

Boy those caps flew high, a flush I’ve
needed for far
too long.

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