YOU CAN’T
C Ra McGuirt
i let my daddy read my book.
he said it liked it pretty good-
made him laugh&sad&think.
he didn’t care about the zen,
but i had been expecting that.
my father is a simple man,
& he can’t help not being hip.
we had another couple drinks
(the old man was still drinking then)
& somehow came around to talk
about the girl in chapter ten.
“gator, how could i have been
so stupid? she was so damn cute,
& talented,&loved me, too,
but i was into what’s-her-name
who didn’t want me. do you think
i could find this girl again?
i wonder where she is right now...”
my father took a thoughtful sip
of his McKenna,&he said:
“well, son, if you ask me, i’d bet
she’s probably fucking thomas wolfe.”
