To father
You must think I'm a delusion as a son. I cannot blame you for such thoughts; I just hope that someday you may find the force to forgive my essential action. I will not defend myself, saying I had no choice, I had a choice, and I chose her.
We followed you that day. I knew you needed weed to survive the night, and you would go through any length to get it. Her stomach growled just before we left, we wouldn't pull through another week, not with Diego threatening to kick us out of our shoes. I saw you eyeing the woman. The plump lady from round the corner who still hoped they'd find her son. You knew she had just enough money in her purse to feed your dependence at least till Saturday when you'd lose what was left of my mother's jewellery, on the gambling table.
Your daughter and I watched you rob the frail lady. I raced after you in the chilly night. All the way to Fred's bar where the smoke seemed to huddle in a cloud of smells. Jenny kept calling and texting in pleading me to go home and leave you to your deeds, but I have had enough of her tears. I called the police from a payphone just outside the bar this way, they wouldn't hint my name.
I was the anonymous lad that turned you in for drugs as well as assaulting a woman. I would be pleased to say I am sorry for you, but I would be lying. Just as the cops handcuffed you, Jenny caught up with me and slid her hand in mine. Just as sorry as she was for the demise of our family, she was happy that at last the door would stop slamming in the middle of the night, and the peaceful smell of drugs would disappear.
I started by saying I must have been a delusion as a son… My son will never be a delusion to me, because I will never be a delusion as a father.
