The Father, the Mother and the Son

Inside the door
Is a dark place
That smells of spilled beer
And cigarette smoke.

It is noisy, with loud
Drunken laughter and
Boisterous talking over
The broken speakers of
The juke box that plays
Country/western music
With a pronounced bass.

The Father takes the Son.

The Mother sits at home
Coddling her poodle next to
The empty refrigerator and
Reading tabloid astrology.

The Father is a Pisces which
Must be why he drinks like a fish.

That Father brags about things
That the Son never did and then
Buys a round for the house.

The Son sits on a barstool
Being as small as he can while
Eating his Fritos.

The Mother breaks dishes and
Talks to her cat. The cat listens.
In the background is an electric fan
And a television.

Sometimes a pool shark comes
To the bar, and screws his pool cue
Together to invite a game.
Perhaps to make some money.

Sometimes the Father pits the Son
Against Minnesota Fats
And beams when he wins.

Other times the Father wants
To pick a fight with a motorcycle gang
While the Son stands aside.

The Mother always championed the
Underdog and made excuses, like the
War or a bad upbringing. She held out
Hope for change that never came.

Father and Son came home very late.
The Son said nothing hoping to avoid drama.
The drama came anyway.

There isn’t a single photograph of the proud Father,
Or the Happy Mother or the invisible Son together,
Holding each other or smiling.

A picture says a thousand words but so does the
Lack of one.

The Father and Mother rest in peace
Beside the Gulf Freeway.

The bar is still there, reflecting the flickering light
Of the nearby refinery.