Bastard

"Don't get a speeding ticket."

I chuckled under my breath.

Tonight I drove home(the only one I know) doing 100 most of the way, slowly. No seat belt. I laugh to dislodge the frogs in my throat. No vacancy. I might peek my head out the windshield, but at least I will have broken through it. No inhibitions. I'm holding nothing back- you should try it- for once.

I am my father's only son, but that doesn't keep him from treating me like a bastard.

We are only acquaintances- I've realized I don't know him at all. All those years, behind those heroics, you were poisoning yourself. The first time I saw you intoxicated I stopped wanting to be a pilot. Hardly anyone knows I can fly, I don't discuss it much.

I picked you up from jail this morning. You had on last nights clothes and your morose expression- that face you put on when you know you've fucked up really bad. I know it well[though the same can't be said for you]. I don't hold it against you though.

"D'you mind if we try the silent [insert noun]."

No: Silent treatments never heal their immutable causes. Terminal illness speaks loud. There is a disease breeding in the gold. Now you keep trying to read into my blank stares as if you will somehow comprehend the meaning behind them with your beady eyes. Somehow.

Don't get your hopes up.
My poker face is cold.

"I'll make it up to you."
"You don't have to make anything up to me."

You've done enough of that already; and we both know that you won't. We'll just go on leading our daily lives. 2 minute phone conversations. 'proud of you', and 'love you': as hollow as woodpecker songs. Routinely whittling away in whistles and wistful thinking. Anyway.

We've both made mistakes. (I tucked that Glock into the small of my back and felt wholesome). I forgave you before we even spoke. Before you(or I) awoke in someplace that doesn't feel anything remotely like home. Nobody is perfect. You came mighty close. I really hope you get some help. I dealt with it on my own- it is no method for the weak of heart.

I am my fathers only son

but that doesn't keep him from treating me like a bastard. I fear that one day he'll be out cold, for good. My tolerance for your behavior is growing as thin as your tolerance for slow drinking. I love you, but face me when you embarrass me. I think you are a coward, when you don't.

Stand up to your demons, I can teach you how. I seem to have become the grown-up of this family, somehow-anyways. Now I'm showing you how to be a man.

Fight me, but you will not win, dad. I am not going to let you push me away. I will suffocate you if I have to. I am getting closer to the truth. The kerosene is soaking-

let it burn-
it feels oh so good
oh so good
rolling off the tongue

Now you understand my love of words.