My Father’s Son
Dear Dad, there are many odd challenges
to one’s manhood at the pub—
like the bartender
with a sparkle in his eye
slapping a bottle
of Coleman’s Mustard down
and with a smug grin says—
are you man enough for that!?
Weighing the bottle in my hand—
My Dad taught me to eat sashimi
with this when I was 11.
Satisfied he walks away.
The burning fumes gush
from my nostrils
—I am still my father’s son—
***
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