Daddy’s Girl 2

Dad and I get together for coffee,

and I admit he seems Different

more present, more solid.

In the car,

I look over

at the thin white scar

dividing his eyebrow

the crack in his façade.

Tell him,

“I don’t need a father so much anymore.”

I pretend to stare

at my scuffed black boots on the dash

as he drives me home in silence. There,

now he hurts too.