on his birthday.
It was a number
that I didn’t know
with a very familiar
area code
(541).
I picked up and
sounded much happier
than I wanted to.
First he asked
what’s up?
Then I said
a lot of things.
Like Happy Birthday.
Then he wanted
to know more.
So I closed my eyes
and saw the first
day of school,
and the white skirts.
Then my monologue
that was kind of about
him, I told him everything.
Then about the reason
my voice was wrapped
in melancholy: girls,
and he told me about girls,
including mom
back when she was a girl.
He asked all the right questions.
I gave long, prudent answers
that had stuck to my lips
the night before,
just like the chapstick did.
I heard him clear his voice
for hours, before something
important, after something
that made him laugh.
And after being so excited
for all those hours, I finally
had to say
Good Night, Dad,
though I would get no
sleep that night.
Happy Birthday, Dad,
because despite myself
I had not forgotten.
Oh, and Happy New Year
which I at last
looked forward to.
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