Patricia

I walk without fear, down lilac evening, mother's words hush dear, wondering what I know, or who I've seen, never bring one to this door, that photographer so clear, who Dada used to tease, the image comes with tears, he's in California now, they lived along our street, their house bought, Protestant souls, he went to buy our father beer, Sunday suit, collar at ease, who said don’t come near, large hands, still calloused, they made him feel uneasy, it wasn’t me he troubled, I loved the magazines.