Left Behind

He left his books behind. They are piled there next to the bed he shared with Mama.

His pillow is still crumpled up. Mama has kept to her side of the bed.

He left his shoe shining kit. Guess he won’t need that out there on the Outer Banks.

He left his white shirts and his work pants and he left me.

He took his cigarettes and his lighter and he walked right out that front door and he didn’t look back and he didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t tell me why he was going or where he was going but I don’t think he is coming back.

The house is quiet now. Mama doesn’t smile anymore. I feel like crying but I don’t want to make her mad.

I am just like my daddy. She told me so. I am lazy and good for nothing and I don’t pull my own weight.

One day I will leave too, but I don’t know that yet. When that day comes I will leave behind the white clock radio I got for graduation and the poster of King Kong.  I will leave my Phi Mu pin and the notes from Philosophy 201 and International Relations. I will just walk out the front door and I won’t tell anyone where I am going or why I am going or when I am coming back. But in my going away I will finally understand why my daddy left me behind.

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Filed under Breadcrumbs, Poetry

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