when i was seventeen
dad drove me to a bicycle race
in illinois.
mom must have set it up
because he and i together
was not
normal protocol.
i ended up winning
and there he was
taking pictures.
i’ll never forget
his knee high socks
and cut off jeans
leaning over the curb
with the camera.
six years later
drunk off my ass
at a strip club in davenport
for my best friend's
bachelor party
one of those places
where you bring your own cooler
and fold dollar bills
like tents.
i don't know why
but being there
made me want to call dad
and tell him
i remembered that day.
how it was important to me.
someone gave me their cell
the bathroom stall didn’t have a door
so i huddled in the corner
and started dialing
when i remembered
he was supposed to be the one
eventually
making a call like this.
how i was going to hang up on him
when he did.
excellent
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