Falling asleep in the afternoon,
I forget that my father has died.
I anticipate him calling me up,
asking me how my writing is going,
and am I thinking about having children.
Making a joke or two. “Don’t worry,
Mom and I will never be lonely.”
Then I fall into deeper sleep, he
loses me, traveling in his car, the green
chevrolet, to old baseball fields
which are sweet with rye grass
and lush stadiums, his pals throwing
him the ball — “Give me some pepper, Al.”