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FOR MY FATHER

Two more years until the big fifty; he tells me-long distance. But Fathers aren’t supposed to get old, only to stay always the same:

in his oil stained khaki work pants, hands hard and calloused, face tanned year round from work out on the Daystar, the Victory, the Bright Eye,

the dredge -- his harpoon, the Atlantic – his stalking ground, hunting for clams in a jungle of offshore blue,

Elizabeth Doxsee @ 1980

	Page 1, 2, 3. 4. FOR MY FATHER Two more years until the big fifty; he tells me-long distance. But Fathers aren’t supposed to get old, only to stay always the same: in his oil stained khaki work pants, hands hard and calloused, face tanned year round from work out on the Daystar, the Victory, the Bright Eye, the dredge -- his harpoon, the Atlantic – his stalking ground, hunting for clams in a jungle of offshore blue, Elizabeth Doxsee @ 1980 Page 1, 2, 3. 4.