Please Daddy (Don't Get Drunk This Christmas)
Photo by Nikola Jelenkovic

Man’s love is

like a mystery

you taste in his mustache.

Is it rye

or did he spring

for the scotch?

And is that

a whiff of lo mein, or

are you imagining things,

like him in a restaurant

instead of an alley,

the small space

where he hid from his old man

as a child,

where he hides

from the young men now?

The real question is:

why do you holler

back when he hollers,

when he wakes us,

when you know

this is what he does

every Christmas,

filling that empty

feeling he feels 
when he sees

the empty spaces

beneath the tree?