My Father
My pop
A pink ostriche in a crowded restaurant with his fat cheshire cat grin
Whenever I come from my pop's house, every little thing's nestalgic, from the names on the skinny apartment mail boxes to the park across the street
His world's a mix of two cultures
And at the end of my stay
at the drop off point
The conversation ends with my pop's famous last words
"be good"
He's always been able to say it clear as day
I may not understand anything else he says that well
But at the end of every stay sentence he says "be good"
Clearer than english
To the point where
As if he's saying it inside my head
To the point where
As if its me saying it
I swear I'm going to carve that into his tombstone
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