eggs toast bacon no potatoes in an upper east cafe
we drink our coffee slowly, discuss his art collection
and the painting that was victim to my childish misconception
he listens as i tell him and he laughs til almost weeping
to me the Baselitz was of the woman who did our housekeeping
later we are speaking in soft tones of 'if' and 'when'
and casually he adds those words 'if something were to happen'
but i only half-listen, look how handsome he's become!
how words are parentheticals in laugh lines they emerge from
how pepper that seasoned his hair shook out to salty white
my father comes in focus in the clarity of morning light
that he has lived so well, still reaps so much from what he's planted
how thankful I am he can laugh at all this child took for granted.
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