During a movie
concerning dying dogs
and red plants
I glanced at my father
and noticed a tear
on his cheek.
I blushed ashamed,
of his freedom.
Somehow he knew
my judgment, my intention.
A primal impulse
turned his head towards mine. Continue reading
We caught 88 crabs
in fifty minutes at tide
going out, we’d brought them up
by threes like it was personal and
I can’t remember why we stopped.
Maybe we’d shed enough gulf blood
for one sunset. Maybe
it was a matter of weight.
When I stumbled, dropped the cooler,
stood sore and wheezing, you marched
back, and lifted it into your car
like it was empty.
At your home we boiled them by batches
and drank the best beer we could find
at a 7-11, in Florida,
on a Sunday.