queer-with-a-pen

of irish spring soap and absent fathers

it’s always funny

the things that you

end up remembering

about someone

 

like that he used

irish spring soap

except, no he didn’t

i used irish spring

 

and so does my grandfather

which i know because

he’s the one that gave

me the soap when mine

ran out

 

i know where that soap is

upstairs in a cabinet

lined up at least three across

and four deep

 

went looking for the hair-dryer

so i could more quickly finish

coating a used canvas in alternating

layers of black and white paint

and got lost in the smell

of irish spring soap

 

and that made me think of

my father for some inexplicable reason

he never used irish spring soap

but he did use flower scented perfume

and those scents are arguably close

 

and i wondered if i was looking

for something in that cupboard

that it couldn’t offer me

 

and i wore these two

beat-to-shit leather jackets

that my father gave me

from middle school to high school

along with a sweater that

clung to how he smelled

even after i’d washed it

 

i got rid of those two jackets

and the sweater

earlier this year

realized that looking at them

only made me sad

and maybe also a little angry

 

i kept that pocketknife

he gave me, though

and a stuffed bunny rabbit

and i wonder why

 

there is a practicality

in keeping the pocketknife 

and maybe a certain kind of

sentimentality in the bunny

 

but who am i to say, really

why i kept these two things

and not the leather jackets

and sweater 

 

maybe i am looking for something

that none of these objects can

offer me

 

maybe they remind me 

of my father

in that he has nothing to offer me

 

and even if he did

i wouldn’t pick up the phone