Somebody's Son

Evening falls through my fingers
and shadows spill like liquid
behind my reflection.

This night I allow no more
whimpering for what else,
extending toward answer.

As mother always says,
you can do anything so
long as it's not forever.

The trains rumble,
spirited by the crazy notion
that love is locomotion.

I refuse to acknowledge
the outcry of my own
reflection. This face,

stowing my Father away,
sticks out a stitched tongue
and returns a smile.

I know whose eyes those are.
I must be loco to hope
that one day, on the coast,

I will dash over hard, wet sand,
and scream what I am—
a drop from the ocean's eye.

My love has taken me everywhere,
you knew all along you were even there,
I have done my best to be a good one.

If I should trip just before
the moment, violently
shattering all of my teeth

and shearing the tip of my tongue—
well, you guessed it. I will get back up,
because I am somebody's son.