Our Father

How come cigarettes never taste as good
As they smelled when I stood on the car seat
Next to my father?
Danger would intrude
And his right arm would swing out
Holding me in place.
The A/C in his company car always blew full blast.
He called me "HotShot" or "WheelHorse",
And he sang to me and revealed mysteries.

There was a big mirror on the wall at home
Right by the door.
He would stop in front of it to fix his tie
Before going off to work in the morning.
I'd run up and hug his legs.
My hands in his, my feet atop his shoes
We would walk about the living room.

I was his puppet.

He had no pretense.
He smelled like Aqua-Velva and Vitalis,
And he travelled to exotic places.
I was jealous of his attention.

He was my protector.

He's an old man now, and the world's a bigger place.
There are few remaining absolutes.
And I'd rather get drunk
Than find some new faith.