I learned to crack my knuckles

Watching my father,

When he still had hair

Rocking the chair in the bay window

Probably reading Bukowski

Or Goethe,
While I lay on the floor.

And we both wait for my mother to come home.

But we wait for different reasons.

And when finally she came in,

Two hours late,

I ran to her and jumped

As high as my four-year-old legs would take me.

It was only after she yelled in pain

And collapsed

That I noticed the brace around her neck.

And we both cried as she told me her car had been hit by a garbage truck.

But we cried for different reasons.

And I learned an early lesson

In loving with care.

To this day I’m amazed at how many careless garbage truck drivers there are.

And how hard it is to see someone’s pain when you’re excited to love them.

)
Luke Wesley Fluegel

Written by

Faster ain't better. Recovering dope fiend. Middle-distance runner. In love with everything human. Always reading, sometimes listening.