PERSON Poem: gotta go make a few shekels, by cristopher al-marj

“gotta go make a few shekels,”
his kind eyes saturated with speckles.
this man, my hero,
never a zero.

he’d always have a phrase
getting ready for work most days.
he’d sing “gotta get that name”
from the muppets, with no shame.
surely, a deep cut
but we loved to watch him strut.
it was his on time song,
but when his timing was wrong
he’d sing quite unluckily,
“fuckety fuckety fuckety.”
we’d laugh and laugh
on my mother’s behalf.
our working class comedy
by a musical prodigy.
he’d play flute in the night,
a lullaby of delight.
he taught me great art,
and with it, open his heart.
my mom would make dinner,
my dad proud to be the breadwinner.
well, that’s what they agreed
to provide us what we need.
i’d make up a fable
about the lunch table.
we’d laugh altogether
as light as a feather.
he’d talk about work
with a cheeky little smirk.
after the evening spread,
it was time to go to bed.
he’d read a bedtime story,
voice each character in all their glory.
a picture book come to life
and afterwards he’d kiss his wife.
we’d say, “ew, gross!”
but saw true love up close.

it was a gift of a childhood,
i turned out pretty good.

i think my dad
was the father he wished he had,
and when i reminisce on those memories,
at those magnificent melodies,
i sometimes miss
that ignorant bliss.

so, when you see my pop,
tell him i never would swap
the childhood i had
with the world’s greatest dad.