He used to have this saying
he'd tack on
to ends of phrases, messages
and Hallmark cards:
"...and know that you are loved."
I haven't heard him say it
since I could drink in public.
The old bird still believes himself.
Half of me is jealous.
Those words the vodka mumbles
come as soothing threats:
"I'll never be my father."
At least I have his eyes.
A whore's demise is marriage.
The greatest death is love.
Your sign at city limits
and its welcome are suspicious.
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