a father’s approval

A Father’s Approval

It’s too damn hot
for words so I
break down &
turn on the
air-conditioning
in this car my
father sold me
18 years ago.
It was pristine
back then,
the ashtray
hadn’t even
been used,
but now it’s a
bucket of bolts,
door handles
ripped off,
the overhead
upholstery
sagging so that
it touches the
top of my head,
cracks in the
windshield,
junk all over the
floorboard.

 

I scribble away
on my yellow pad
in the cool
of this
minor concession,
still trying to
gain his
approval.

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