Showing posts with label Papa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Papa. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

He's Cracker Jacks and Baseball Games on the Radio

He’s cracker jacks and baseball games on the radio. He’s so tone-deaf; he causes confusion when he tries to sing a popular tune. He’s junky old cars whose problems don’t seem to matter as long as they run. He’s watching Disney movies with his daughters and imperfect ponytails after trying so hard. He’s sweaty running shoes and all the clutter around your house and buying packs of gum on sale. He eats all the cookies in the cookie jar and then claims to have only eaten “a couple”. He’s the smell of newsprint and old maps and new maps. He’s the overwhelming need to make sure those he loves will be provided for. He’s the plan for the future and horrible planning skills. He’s outrageous drunken stories from his youth and breaking into zoos. He’s stock markets and the need to always do something. He’s long car rides and only listening to talk radio.

He’s most of the things that embarrass you.

He tries so hard not to be.


Microexpressions -- 7 February 2021

Maybe someday I'll be able to tell a story That doesn't have anything to do with me Or you But how can I ignore Your mouth full of e...