Briefly My Father
Sitting at a stoplight.
It’s November, but also Alabama,
so my window is down.
I notice I have my elbow
partway out the window,
the backs of my left index
& middle fingers resting
against my lips.
This is the same gesture
my father makes
in this situation.
Like him, I also drum
on the steering wheel
and whistle along to the radio.
Although he’s a better whistler.
Good enough to have gone pro,
I always thought.
Someone once said it’s funny
to open your mouth and hear
your father’s voice come out.
I live alone now, and have
fewer opportunities
to impersonate him.
But at this stoplight,
with “Layla” on the radio,
I am, briefly, my father.
21 November 2012
Auburn AL
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