Back at Dad’s Place – Written Monday 3rd August 2020 (aged 45)

Back at Dad’s Place

going back to my dad’s place
it was hard
he was not sitting outside
slightly drunk
and ready to fall over
giving me that look
as if he never really knew me
which was true
in some respects to him
i was always some kind of UFO
that had come into his view

the estate agent was professional
and made the kind of polite conversation
that will just about do
it was hardly verbal art
but it solid and contained enough hues
and none of us fell apart
the prospective buyers, said, sorry,
sorry for my loss
as i fumbled around
and realised later,
we would be talking about price and cost

i thought back over the years
the ones i keep in my internal box
and i wondered what my loss was
was it what i had ended up with
or was it what i never had
the contextual layers abound
every time i use the word, ‘dad’
and then we left
most likely for the very last time
driving off if not quite away
going back to my dad’s place
as memories settle, if not ever truly fade

James Garratt – Monday 3rd August 2020

More poems at

More about this blog, The Boy Behind the Glasses, here 

More poems from 2020 here

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