You came to me in your boston hat
with your custody case and your mens rights sob stories
at a time when I was open to that

a time that was perfect for watching the wire
in a down and out place
between school and employment where my standard for a man
was a cross between detective McNulty and my dishonored father

your lawful good EMT dreams pasted over a
tepid wasteful inland that you never let me touch but
so many others would pass through

I found out today that my dad was just like you
a dioscuri, a bipolar star
a primordial warning of st. elmo’s fire

bound to the fate of demigodship,
unable to fully accept one or the other role and certainly not one’s place in the center
he roams the the white foam curling ocean waves with the ship of his own blood
his son
a beacon of troubles yet to be enumerated