The Man

One day, the man just wasn’t there anymore

Not there to shake the kid from delicious sleep

On early Monday mornings

Not there to throw any ball around

Or tell the kid to do his homework

Like the previous 16 years of the kid’s life.

He is dead now to his wife

But far from dead to his doctor

He didn’t even try to look back once

Didn’t even turn around and say to the kid

Come with me

Murky, draining, ending

No clear end, no clear start

The kid’s lost conflicted helpless

Watching the lone figure of his mother

Bent over the dining table at night

His little brother caught in between

Weeping, maybe, but never the same

Bearing features like the man, just like the kid.

The kid couldn’t do nothing

But betrays no feelings of hate

No feelings of grief, loneliness, confusion

Clenched fists hidden in the back

Smoothed face forward and

What now? Nothing draws the kid’s father back

Nothing changes in the way

The movies always lie.

Today is Monday.

The kid will wake up by himself.

Today, he is the man.