Red Polka- Dot Bowtie

Sundays, too, my father got up early

Sweet blueberry pancakes awoken us from our slumber

Firmly pressed pinned striped suits awaited

I hated wearing red polka dot bow ties

Unyielding baritone voice from mother sought direction

To prevent blistering anger my brother and I listened 

Father was free from verbal assassinations 

His callous mindset built monuments of weariness

Mother never questioned his motives

Not in front of my brother and I at least

"How was service?" (He would say..)

"Great!!!" (My nonchalant response)

"You look like a man in your bow tie!!" (Father replied)

I guess I have to be because you’re never there (confused thoughts)

My father was idol, my inspiration, my everything

It didn’t matter, I didn’t know him

All I remembered was the same remark he made about my bow tie

The red polka dots made me feel like the man I never knew

I took the bow tie off and put it back in the drawer

I don’t want to wear that damn bow tie anymore!