When I was asleep
on the couch
today
I dreamed of
my oldest son
as a baby.
He was laughing
and playing
in a diaper.
I felt like
I really missed him.
Baby him.
Like I haven’t seen him
in years.
Which was confusing.
Then as I was kind of
waking up
I had to acclimate
to the fact that
the reason I haven’t seen
baby him
in years
is because he grew up.
And he’s 19 now.
And I saw him last week.
And he was drinking whiskey
and talking about
having sex with girls.
Comments 1
This poem holds up a mirror to society. A right of passage. Whiskey and women.