Dad

he was like me, once i saw proof of it in photo albums on walls of old apartments and when he gained weight and shaved his head he looked exactly like me i trace the newly colored pictures of him standing proudly in new york city i know he was suffering i know what happened then he must have memories of this he must remember something and then there are photos where he’s a little kid he looks just like my baby brother i can’t bear to open the small black envelopes i cannot look at his innocent face and wonder where along the way it had been broken