Marc Swan
Standing Tall
The night before the wedding
was quite an affair. My usually
conservative father drank drafts
with us at the Duchess, laughed
like hell when we stole the pool cue
at Uncle's Place, drank some more
at the Trade Winds, helped me up
when I fell off the bar stool
at the Tavern, kept the pace
when we went to the Gag&Heave
for fries and gravy and on the way back
to the motel, I could see him
in the rear view mirror, sitting
between Hound and Carl, taking long
slow hits off a bottle of Dewars.
He was laughing at a lot of things
I'm sure he didn't understand.
The next morning I was dog tired.
He roused me at six am
for a prenuptial service and stood tall
beside me when I slipped on
that narrow gold band.
