on the rear view mirror, it hangs. the necklaces

and vanilla fresheners that once had a

story to tell. now, I look past them and into

the world behind me. most times, I see

it as a complete different color than what

my eyes see. and I left for this purpose, to see

what I see and not question the vulgarity,

indifference, or the lack of sensibility.

but mainly I just refuse to hear your name.

remebering you, dad.

as an ode to my father, the youngest years

shall be forgotten and washed away in the

lake that we caught fish and jumped from the rope

tied to the tree. only the good times, dad.

peanuts and popcorn, the x-files and the simpsons,

crackers and vienna sausages, me and you. someday,

dad, I hope for you to give me away, but in knowing

that everytime I hear "go rest high on the mountain",

"hotel california", or "fishing in the dark" I will be reminded.

you are my father, my pride, comfort, and the source

of my courage. thank you daddy.