sees a girl
with tattooed
legs,
he says,
"i don't mind
them on the arms,
but
please,
just
don't do
your legs."
every couple
of months
i remind him
of the four year
old stain
on my
calf,
a christmas
gift,
not from him,
but from a lover
who too was
poked and sticked.
my father doesn't
have any of his own.
he says,
"i'm recognizable
enough
as it is."
these miniature
torturous
artistic prowess
call for wondering eyes
and laborious explanations
as to
why
why
but why?
the occasional
compliment in
geriatric mush
can ease
the second guessing
(because there's
always that)
and there's
the ever burdening
FUCK YOU!
to carry
on my arms,
my leg,
and yes,
even on my chest,
i've got them
everywhere!
i wouldn't know
what to do
if i was
80
either way.
but
i don't
hold it
against them.
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