A good reminder…
Hug your son and tell him you love him,
or do something with him, anything—
stop tinkering with your crap in the garage.
That overgrown toolshed isn’t an homage
to the greasy god of car part hoarding.
Hug your son and tell him you love him.
In a few more years he won’t be driven
to sleep in the house of a widower drinking.
Stop tinkering with your crap. In the garage
the yellowed calendar girls know your age—
you can’t sit on the beach with them mingling,
so hug your son. Tell him you love him
before your headlights are cracked and dim,
while he’s in a far place, his heart sinking,
and you’re still tinkering in the garage
as you gasp with acid reflux and wage
war with esophageal cancer, and start thinking
it’s too late to find him and tell him you…
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