my old man

came by it honestly, all right
drinking through long nights,
dinner at 2am in my boxers,
a beer and a shot and a beer and

and i started drinking when
i was 18, okay

used to be able to put it away,
accidentally became a regular at the
bar across from campus,
followed by going to walgreens and
not looking the cashier in the eye
as i bought $30 of barefoot bubbly
wine with what i got back from fafsa 

never drank what my old man did, 
though, if that counts for anything,
just the thought of old crow
grog with a splash of lukewarm tap 
water, no ice, makes my stomach turn

couldn’t tell you the color of
my father’s eyes, but i sure as
hell remember what he drank

remember the palm of his hand,
hitting the table, making me jump,
squeezing my upper arms as an
anchor point to lean over me and
yell, always where the bruises
wouldn’t show

and i don’t think of my father
when i drink anymore, though i
still remember the last father’s day
i got really drunk and really angry,
but still not enough to call 

and i don’t drink much now,
found i don’t like being drunk,
and like being hungover even less,
but i sure came by it honestly,
nevertheless 

and i wonder if he would recognize me
now, close to a decade on,
or would i just be a stranger with
his face, like he’s a stranger
with mine?