Disobedience

Walking across a well-lit stage I command my sequined graduation cap stay perched up there! I instruct my feet, Don’t stumble! Gripping my Bachelor’s Degree I recall the gruff, Bronx-accented voice of my dad dead now Forty years ago I received his high school graduation directive “daughters ‘ain’t fer college, ‘git a husband, ‘git children.” Today my father stands on the edge of a Heavenly cloud, hands on hips, grinning at me I done it anyway dad. What you ‘tink ‘bout ‘dat?