For Dad
“Kids don't remember what you try to teach them. They remember what you are.”
― Jim Henson
You are copper tone, paisley, freshly bloomed
butter and onion, Russian hymn, screaming trumpet,
choke laughing, knee stained in grass,
over-peppered beef stroganoff, giver of my first guitar,
I trust how you are unafraid of donuts
it makes the other parents unclench
because you are sometimes free, I know it
is not your limits that define you, your edge
imprinted with the swirling fractal of Aunt Mary’s pysanky,
with the volume of, “Hurrah!”
I imagine you standing in the doorway
where you once slept, by the Burger King
where you once peed
but your tears are different, they fall with purpose
and these days when I feel stained
and homeless to myself
I remember what you taught me about liberation through choice
but mostly I remember what you are.