Ninety Seven One

In 2013 my
Dad passed

They said
it was a
heart attack.

He ate Nancys
pizza for dinner,
after another

15 hour work day
and sat down to
watch TV in his

He never got up.
It is a scenario
I don’t revisit
often but

I still talk to
him all of the time,
mostly when I’m

driving and listening
to classic rock on
the radio.

Today I told him that
I could see snow covered
mountains, in the sun
with palm trees at the

same time. I told him
how much I love fruit
parfaits from Coffee Bean
lately and I

know he would still try
to buy me generic ones
and pretend it was the same

if he could. I told him
how much he would love
my Husband, mostly

because of the incredible
care of me that he takes,
and mostly how I am a

spectacularlry functional
person within this
most of the time.

I’d tell him about my art

and I wouldn’t even feel
sorry for myself if he
wasn’t interested or didn’t

if I could. Because it goes
that way. Mid sentence

it all flips to the wrong
tense and I have to read
it back to find out

how and when that happened.

My Dad would really love
that his little girl grew
up to be like me.

Strong and smart.
Aware and

missing him so
much that nothing
could un teach her

how lucky
she is to still
tell him how

she lives in the
desert, with the sun
and the snow, the

mountains and the
palm trees. Turning
up the Foreigner track

as loud as it goes
just because it’s
who he

taught her
to be.

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