or Reflections of a (Seldom) Sober Conscience
Seven pence and a peso, too,
Were all i had, and a soleless shoe,
To put my son through college.
But i didn’t get to the classifieds.
The cinema blue is what i spied
And there went a pence and a peso.
My threadbare coat was a sight to see
But the ladies there were nice to me
So there went two more pennies.
When they saw those two round Lincoln-heads
Their heads ’bout burst and they turn’d bright red
And they threw me out the window.
And there i lay with a swollen eye
When i heard behind an embarrassed sigh
And i ducked what i thought was coming.
But the arm extent was a shielding glove
And the other arm wasn’t for a shove
But it picked me up and held me.
When i found the guts to meet his eyes
They were filled with hate to criticize
And they made me cold with sadness.
He remembered, so did i each night,
How his Mom and i would always fight
Every time i filled a shot glass.
He remembered of the drunken day
How her bloody, mangled body lay.
He had too — i don’t remember.
So, here i am, with two pence and a shoe,
And a son to put through college, too.
And i only have one question.
It’s a nagging, deeply driving thought.
It’s confused me every night we fought:
Didn’t Andy die with Mommy?