He’s a father,
a junkie;
and the junkie 
trumps the father
as he chases the next bottle,
pill or reality eraser.
Blame is a game
he plays well,
spreading the cards around
and away from himself.

Anxiety is the gene card,
the get-out-of-blame
free card he passed 
to his son, the one
who struggles to
understand
as best a six year old can
the confusion,
the father, the card
he was dealt.

He’s the son,
a child;
and the child will
trump the gene
as he’s plucked from
the father’s wake.
Dealt a new hand,
he will play his own game,
no editing need--
reality unplugged.

~~Pam Patterson © 2004~~