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.

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
“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.