Dear Son

John Grey

Your father was lost in the woods.
He tumbled off a cliff into a deep crevasse.
He was eaten by a bear.
He was kidnapped by moon-men. 

No backwoodsman, no mountain climber,
no adventurer, no rocket scientist like him
would simply pack some shirts
and trousers in a suitcase,
kiss a child on the cheek,
drive off in the lesser of the two family cars,
and never be seen again. 

But the woods were a marriage.
The cliffs were boredom.
The bear was Michelle
who tended bar at the pool hall.
And the moon’s what you stare at,
the man most of all.

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