Father's Day

Despite the name, this was not written for Father's Day. I just liked that name for it.


Father's Day
- by Steven for Meegan


I figured out everything about driving
while riding in the front seat with my father
while trees and side streets slid by
I watched his weathered hands
on the wheel
and the shifter
I saw the sacred rituals that made the metal monster go

His right thumb pushed the shiny cigarette lighter in
then back to the steering wheel
left hand twirled the window down
then back to the wheel again
right hand to the lighter - just as it popped out
curved hand cupped the lighter to his face
then clicked it back into place
right hand grasped the wheel
left arm raised to rest on the window seal
Then he would squint at me through the smoke
to see if I had all of that figured out

I figured out more than just how to drive
I figured out that most people are idiots
and my dad could make a car go faster than anyone else
I figured out that adventure was out there waiting
on the curvy backroads
where the trees covered the road
and out on the crunchy gravel roads
where we would stop and wade into the cold water
and look for buried treasure
and stick smooth stones that must be as old as the world into our pockets
then get back into the car
and rumble off
just before the Indians could sneak up on us

I don't know what my father thought of me
when I was a goofy kid
asking too many questions
What does this button do?
What does that light mean?
Are we gonna see Indians today?
Can I build a raft when we get to the big river?

I don't know what he would think of me now
He was gone long before I started to really figure things out

Sometimes, the little boy inside me hopes,
that on some Father's Day,
he'll come driving down our little backroad
and pull his midnight blue Ranchero into our driveway
snuff out his cigarette in the ashtray
step out
and squint at me through the last of his smoke
to see if I figured it all out
I would shake his hand
and bring him inside to meet you
And when you met him
and smiled
and gave him a kiss on his cheek,
he'd smile
and he would know
that I finally did figure it all out

Only You

It's been too long since I posted. I've just too busy with life. No good excuses really, just poor prioritization. Anyhow, here's another poem I wrote for Meegan. I love you, baby!


Only You

- by Steven for Meegan


Only you know
that if my soul has blades, they are blue.
Sharp blades -
turned blue by the heat of lust,
quenched for strength in the cold blue water of sadness,
polished by the soft blue horizon of dreams,
- cut to the surface
and emerge in my eyes.

Only you can see
the glowing edge of a long-silent soul
shining like a beacon
to guide you close to my whispered love.

Only you can speak to me
with the touch of fingertips
and lips
and skin

Only you know
the tease that makes me giggle
and the one that makes me growl

Only you can know
what mysteries,
what wonders,
what adventures,
what joys,
these eyes will see
before the ever-marching darkness dulls the blades
and drains the blue hope from these eyes.
Only you.