Them shiny brown lace up shoes

An old bound book kind of brown

Or maybe like the side of a ship bound somewhere-not here

Maybe a vest buttoning down a chest

With the pride and dignity to stop a fight or calm a storm.

My action figure hero standing

Behind a guitar and on top of a world

The stage of the play

I’m not yet staring in

And sometimes that cigarette smell draws me to you.

And sometimes is always evening and trying to stay awake

To find out which leather polish you keep

In the cabinet of your unopened rusty bathroom sink.

Wash your face to begin again.

Sandpaper taste of your cheek on my shoulder again.

Where are the couches and tall-backed study room chairs

Filled with the fiction of family man fatherhood cares.

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