Old Doug

Did you drink to forget
Or because you couldn’t remember the last time you heard good news about yourself?

I heard good news about me:
It was the scratch of a crow on a bleak fall day, a field painted by Wyeth
It lasted but a second before the wind took it away

Doug, your lopsided grin
Smiles down on me I hope
As I try to do my best
Or try to convince myself I’m doing my best
Am I ok, Doug? Dad? Louis?

Daddy, am I ok?

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