Remembering Dad

Yours was ever a wanderer’s song

of meandering roadways,

late night travels merging into

early morning hours,

rich diner pancakes,

grits and gravy,

and truck stop coffee

thick as mud.

Home fries taste better

from a greasy spoon.

Sunday morning donuts

peanut sticks and Bavarian cream,

WD-40, D&L, and Old Spice.

Ice cream and caramel

starry skies and diesel fumes—

these are my memories of you.

The low rumble of thunder,

so soft in the distance,

and you laugh loudly

body rocking

shaking so hard that you might fall apart.

Sometimes so clouded

your eyes far away

but then suddenly all knowing

you saw through me to Me

and you loved Me the same.

Where does your road take You

if not here in my breath?

Always I hear you—

that mad, laughing wind!

You’re a lunatic, aren’t you?

But then so am I.