My dear Son You were my secret and I didnt want to believe you were real. My first and only. My heart burst with the joy of being a creator and of what we could do together. You would rest on my shoulders and I would breathe in your sweet chemical air. I would go in goal and you would repeat dirty words and I would laugh til, he said arse and parents would drag their kids away and cancel party invites. I would kill wasps for you and you would draw kangaroos and sunny houses. Id screw in screws, youd unscrew them and Id screw them in again. We could hide-and-seek one another in the grey blanket of a spring morning. You would always hide, of course, and I would be left listing numbers for you to learn. On the count of twenty I would miss you behind the oak. Youre too good, I give up. Come here and look. What is it? You tell me. What does it smell like? Lift it up. Dont be afraid, it wont bite. Good. Is it heavy? Be gentle, dont drop it. What colour is it? I know you know, Daddys being silly, isnt he? What does it look like? Like who? Like me! It must be very handsome then. Now put it down. Come on, lets go. Running faster and faster, crying and consoling after tumbling and bleeding. All patched up with correction fluid and black marker, I would hang you out to dry. Neck deep in sand, you build castles on my buried toes, hysterical as the foam fills the moat and engulfs Dad to his ears. With a giants strength I emerge and chase you up the dunes and onto the grass banks, growling. Wurde das meine liebe in einem einzelnen wort einfach gesagt wurde. I can feel under my finger tips the fresh black ink of you pitted in my skin. Walks in woods, pets you would bore of, teachers Id sort out, nightmares of monsters we would battle and slay and your perfect black and white coat would spoon mine, pink and alien. I would sing to you and you would laugh at my fag-cracked chords. Pick a card, hit me hard, give us a hug. Is it too much to imagine that I was once your age, all flesh and bone, unlike you, all colour and tone, all DPI and lie. You were my Xerox Baby and you were conceived on Boxing Day 2007 and you were shredded within eight weeks. Sixty grammes per square inch. RIP. Love Dad
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 23:17:35 +0000
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