THIS IS NOT A POEM ABOUT MY FATHER’S RUINED DAY 2.11.17

Words spoken by my father, around 8:05 at night, in the dark, with the television on, downstairs in my sister’s living room, after being told to keep his voice down or he’ll wake the sleeping baby upstairs. 


2.11.17


“I don’t know what I’m doing here.

I had a plan. Today I was supposed to watch two movies

and run some errands.

Instead, I’m here,

and it has completely destroyed my day.”


He’s not as grumpy as he sounds. 

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