“Dad, can I talk to you?”
“Sure.”

A request for a favor
Or even a mere question

A shaky toss of words
Shutting my eyes as I let an arrow fly
Seeing if I’ve hit the bull’s-eye
Or the target at all

But my preferred answer is only applicable
If it floats your cargo ship
Carrying the heavy weights of a withered childhood, war, fatherhood
That you keep locked away in your doghouse every evening until 9

The only way is your way.
The only way is within that tiny fortress.
Republican. Homophobic.
Skin free of tattoos and piercings.
Because it’s for my own good.

Arrows and bullets shot back and forth
Voices rising like tsunami waves
Crashing down like shattering glass
Fists clench tighter than your grip on victory

You put up your walls
Blocking me out
My words fly over your towers

My pleading is futile.