I still remember my matching leather jacket

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I still remember my matching leather jacket,
feeling proud walking beside him.

The rock of Metallica filled the room
where infant sounds like Barney should be.

Grabbing his drumsticks when he tried to rehearse
Allowing me to crash the cymbals
and beat on the drums,
vibrating the whole house.

Folding my pizza as he would do.
Always being asked, “Is that a New Yorker thing you do?”

His hair was long, so mine was the same.
I didn’t care what other said.
The style was not in-
but I looked just like him.

As a child, my hero, my dad.





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