i'm the same son

me and my old man out front again
the tobacco is sweet to my nose
a clunking moth rallies warmth from the porchlight

my dad scrapes aftershave from his skin
i hear his hand against his wiry cheek
the moon pours a pool of light at my feet
i make believe they wade in the shallow comfort
of the third step above the walk

we've been out here awhile already
the dew crawls slow on the lawn
goosebumps do the same on my arms
i've been seeing a guy at school
no one knew
until now

my old man picks himself up
from the cracking lawnchair
he shoots his dead cigarette off the porch
long into space
he slips inside and leaves me to myself
with the moonpools fading at my feet