My father’s birthday today who said he never believed
He would ever see the Berlin Wall come down
Who grew his remaining hair into a ponytail
And hummed Dylan’s “Tambourine Man” all wrong
What would he make of our Covid mess, would he believe
Some day it too will end? What would he make of me?
Have I this very morning become him? Into the mirror I stare
Does everything solid really melt into air?
So is that our problem that we’ve inhaled
All the unfinished past, no wonder it’s now infecting us
Or kicking us in the ass as he also used to say
My father were you alive today
I present you your great grandchildren
Father, please tell me what to say.
some conversations are never finished.