As I Carry My Kid to Bed and Think of Dead Friends

I used to pick you up
and carry you to bed

Now I hoist you
your long toddler legs
dragging across the sheets
your curls in my face
they smell like a daughter's head
dirt and imagination
the opposite of the world we live in

The bad old days
the salad days are gone
my friends are dying
drinking scotch
listening to the Pogues
in a soccer hooligan bar
beyond thought and matter

I social distance
from the moon I used to howl at
stop at one glass of wine
and switch to tea

what a fucking dad I've become

I will not leave it like this for you
Cecilia

We will have the president
that unites this country
gay, compassionate, shoots missiles
from his eyes, is also a she,
plays third base w/ a good slash line,
hits for power, a communist in a
Gucci belt w/ the head of Merle Haggard,
knows 12 languages, fluent in
America, the art of love, diplomacy,
and Star Trek bar trivia

I lay you in your bed
cover you with your Paw Patrol stuffies:
Chase, Skye, Carl, Slippery Jean,
green helmet guy, something something

What a fucking dad I've become

Goodnight, Cecilia

Dream those dreams
of dirt and imagination

and goodnight, Cal

who's now the dream

drunk on Laphroaig

as well dressed as they come

© 2020 Lee Kitzis