Father of the year

What can I say,
you’re a champ.

Whenever she needs you
you’re first.
With bottle breath
and a zoo pals plate of New Ports.

You’re the best.

If anyone could claim first place
for biggest waste of blood and land
its you.

I don’t know what we’d do
without you.

Never cease to impress
how you play pretend so well
hanging onto her little hand
like a last paycheck.

If I got the call
the you’d strolled into a titty bar
thinking it was a playground
I’d reach for the trophy right away.

But at least everyday can seem
like her birthday.
You’ve had her 6th party banner up since June
too lazy to take down.
Maybe it makes you feel good
that its the only good thing you’ve done.

If God could send the blessing
of a bullet rain cloud
crawling overcast,
down your street
I’d be tempted
to give you an umbrella
and tell you its a nice day for a walk.

* Not my image


Not my image

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