dad asks me if i have ridden
my bike all the way here
i say yes of course dad
how else was i to get home
it’s a four-hour drive
i arrive well after midnight
it’s one
two in the morning
i stop keeping track
the moment it gets dark
so i get out of the car
– off of my bike –
and i enter his room
he is having a peak of terminal
lucidity
grabs my hand
says how’s Tina
i say Tina’s all right dad
she’s doing just fine
he means my dog
a rescue dog
and i know i have to say something
dad will not let go of my hand
turns his head to the other side
lets out a heavy sigh
the feral in me
growls
unwilling to surrender
and i so wish Tina were here
