This glass here's for you

When I was young,

dad would only say he loved me

when drunk.

He’d take me to his face

—a toilet bowl—

and spew the sewerage.

Or at least

that’s how I saw it.

I hardly do it but

tonight,

years on,

I got drunk

and when my housemate entered

I felt this overwhelming love.

It was like

I was free to just admit

my housie was chocolate cake

and I’d loved my chocolate cake

all along

and none of this felt weird

in any way.

Maybe dad had it something like this

and it took the grog to just let go

and love me the way he always

actually

had.

Maybe most of the time

love is too intense to handle sober.

I never really get you dad

but this glass here’s for you.