On stepping into the same river twice.

My father really pushed me
to go to The University at Albany
for a reason that didn't reveal itself
at the time
but it seems clear now:
His
One That Got Away
Anne
went there almost forty years ago.

His predictably awkward college visits
consisted of useless care packages
and coffee-fueled diner sermons.
I believe he was hoping
that somewhere in between
he'd find her still waiting for him
sitting by that hideous concrete fountain
at the center of the campus.

The last time I saw him two years back
he was ranting and raving about his current God
but I know damn well from the experience
of being his similarly-fated progeny
just who controlled the weather back then
when he was my age, and it was
that silly broad.

(You have to get up pretty early
to fool this one, Charlie.)

So listen, Pops, if you're out there:
we can suck on that bitter reed of life
for only so long, trying to keep it wet
for a second shot at that big solo
but guess what--
It ain't comin'.

You keep pounding your Good Book
and I'll crack the spines of mine
in our efforts to suck the marrow out
but that won't change a Goddamn thing, either.

(You have to get up even earlier
to fool that One.)

Silence is golden
but duct tape is silver
and you know I'm hard-up
for a line
if I'm stealing stuff
from bumper stickers
and my old man.

Give me her address.
I'll forward the loans.