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.