I carry your photo in my wallet
Just so as not to mix you up
With someone you should have been.
Federal forms ask for your information
And for the answers to questions
You wouldn't even understand.
And that's OK.
I've stopped responding to inquires
And concerned looks from "adults"
With tears and sobs and heartache.
From now on, I'll just shrug my shoulders,
Ignore dates on the calender,
And say, "My dad's not dead, he's just an ass"
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