Annabelle
I can’t help wondering what he
was like, or is like, because he’s not dead,
he’s just not here, in my life.
My mom tells me I don’t need
to know him, that knowing him
wouldn’t change who I am.
But how does she know that? It’s like
the one about the tree falling in the forest
when no one is there to hear it. Doesn’t it still fall?
I guess I’m kind of like the tree, only
my father isn’t around to see me.
Maybe I’d grow differently if he were.
My mom grew up near here, so I might
have passed my dad a million times,
maybe even handed him a flyer at the mall.
If I did, I wonder what he did with it: did he read it,
or ditch it? Is he the type of guy who cares about things
like child labour? Does the world keep him up at night
Or is he the type of guy who only cares about hockey
and football, watching TV with a beer in one hand,
a cigarette in the other, swearing at the screen?
Either way, I’d like to know because it might help me
figure myself out, it might help me see what kind
of life I’ll have when I’m older, not that I expect
To become exactly like my mom or dad, but
it would be nice to know that I inherited some traits,
instead of feeling everything about me starts at zero.