The Deadly Seven
My father wandered in like he always did
wearing his pride like a decades old varsity Letterman jacket
too stuck on what used to be to realize that his life was just as crappy and cracked as the jacket
too proud to ask for help
so he just sat on his recliner all day, out of a job and out of shits to give
looking like a hairy motionless two-timing two-toed sloth
thirsting lustfully after the women he studied in his magazines
and quenching that thirst with bottle after bottle of Jack
you could almost hear the bottle crying out his confessions as he drank
"glug glug glut gluttony"
the smell of alcohol masked only by the stench of the envy he felt for his younger self
and yet at the same time amplified by the anger he had for growing old
My father, a class A stand up guy.
1/27/16
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