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Eugene Rinehart

Dad stands in the back aisle

And smiles

I know, he prefers it that way

To being up front and

Not having a good time.

Too many people,

He always hated too many people –

There are less in the back

So he stood in the black—

Where he could have a good time.

I don’t mind.

Of all the faces he sees mine.

I know he is there

In the open air

Where the crush cannot touch him.

I feel his relief

And the odd sense of peace

That comes from his aisle.

He’d rather not be in the paternal pile

Where breath is too slim.   

That man, the smiling man

Beyond the din,

Where you might miss

Him in the thin

Light; that is my father

And he is having a good time.

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