if Heisenberg spoke the truth
if just looking can change things,
then
what might we destroy by speaking?
soap bubble moments that float on air
annihilated by a grasping hand
my father and i out in his car
on some errand I can't recall
me, home from college for a little while
becoming my own man -
not necessarily in my father's image
neither of us knowing anymore
who the other was
but "Johnny B Goode" on the radio
and both of us quietly singing along
I've never spoken of that moment
I feel that it would shatter if I asked
if he recalled a song we sang together
a moment when i saw my father
as a man of love, and confusion
and song, and breath
the same as me
I remember and I smile, but do not speak