insert  poem for father.

i don't think i can do it.
i'm in too much of a hurry.
i've said it all before.
it's only a self-indulgence.
it solves nothing.
who cares i'm gonna write it, 
after i walk the dogs.



(oh lord it's another i remember poem, thanks a lot, joe brainerd.)


i remember dozing in the former maid's room
above the garage of the bluestone dinosaur 
on the main line, pa.
dad was in his blue buick centurion.  
the room rumbled like the cabin of a boat.
a bluebottle fly banged his head on the window against all reality.
i remember thinking, why does he torture me so?
blue exhaust crawled up like a particulate comforter.
i remember wondering what it was like down below, idling.
i remember my heart thudding like a buried clock, and
the bluebottle's mad metronome.
i remember thinking
how 
long. and 
who of us is getting the gas most?
when in all inevitability the door groaned
and the convertible centurion slipped it's mooring 
and with a sigh recalling his sobs, 
or was that ambient noise?