Shoulder Me

In the lobby, after the show, “Dad,” you said, and touched his shoulder. That was all I heard, or needed to. I sat here once, your fingers said. I saw the world you showed me. The view was what it was— a bay, a bridge, a vacation or two. Perhaps a parade or a just-reached leaf. What mattered was the ride up, the steering ears the dab of Brylcreem, hint of Prell the “Duck your head, Honey.” the “Gettin’ too … Continue reading Shoulder Me