back in the pond

sometimes when I belch I bring back dad
that sonorous, self-satisfied way he had
a baritone frog on a lily pad

shit i even walk like him
rolling along on stumpy pins
a nonchalant neanderthal synonym

lately I catch myself sighing when I sit
and when I laugh I cry a little bit
like life’s so funny I can’t quite handle it

I wish he’d quit and leave me alone
the dead king slumped on his ghostly throne
jerking the strings on these junior bones

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