It’s Father’s Day
and you’re going to see your son.
You wanted to be the one
to identify the body.
Amy’s just starting to bake her dad’s cake.
She bought the mix last night at Kwik Trip.
Didn’t you see her there?
You were pulling on your shoes to go get cigarettes
about the time Ben pulled his off, laughing
at the “No Swimming” signs.
I hope it was a good night for him,
the best in his brief long life.
I hope he shot a couple games of pool.
I hope he hustled money to buy beer
for newfound friends. I hope he put
his arm around each woman in the bar.
You called me late and I came over,
and we made a haven in the quiet night
before the world would wake and sympathize.
We even laughed some, while
others surely cried themselves to sleep.
I’m telling you Ben likes your mourning best.