How patient you were as you watched me play with my plastic men on the carpet strewn
with dead soldiers, scattered toy guns and tanks.
The explosion noises I made with my child’s mouth were some ironic twist to your fate.
For here you were, spending your lifetime to forget what your son innocently brings up again in your face.
After all this time I realize I spent my time trying to be you.
And you, you spent your time trying to forget what you’d been through.
I’m sorry if I ever hurt you, Dad,you know it wasn’t like that.
I was just a blond-haired kid doing what little boys do.
- By Anthony Buccino
from SIXTEEN INCHES ON CENTER
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
Old Man first published in Raving Dove Online Literary Magazine