and so the story goes

i went snooping into the grounds
where my father laid his peace,
the house of small children
and little bitty white lies --

twenty years ago doesn't seem like
-- such a big loss,
but he has given up these tactics
for a much poorer life --

i see now his yes behind dark lashes,
they stare back at me when i
smear off mascara,
eye shadow,
all this dust.

i cannot give you the things you crave for,
the die that lands on one road,
and the choices between left + right
( i cannot tell you the places i've got to go,
you are all i have been
and my father disapproves.)

keep the ring.
feed your kid -
wash your sheets,
fix your car-
i will be waiting i,n the water,
sliding down your drinking glass.