The weather, the Tampa Bay Rays
and we would drink a beer,
or perhaps many beers,
Busch Light, of course,
and find a boxing match on ESPN
we watched a lot of Marvin Hagler
fights back in the 80’s, and we’d
stay up late for a West Coast ball game
maybe the Dodgers-Giants
or Dodgers-Padres.
I’d fall asleep first
because I never could
keep up with my old man.
Wake with a crick in my neck,
wonder if it had all been a dream,
the dozen empty beer cans on the table,
the smell of bacon frying in the kitchen.
My father standing bare-chested
in his Jockeys at the stove.