Swelling hard under the fluorescent tube light,
Inactive father trains his eye on the oblong utensil.
Falters like he does,
Always.
He questions his vital integrity,
Like a country song antihero.
To hold the garments he wore in the past,
Cloud eye father could peer into false memories
And be transformed, as they say fathers are.
The proteins and lipids of dreaming father's corpus,
Losing their old ambitions
In the fresh and realistic tableau,
Make their song known to him.
Vinegar floods in,
Vinegar he thinks.
