The Secret Lives of Parents

Crushed cans in the park

only we can hang out in,

did or does yours do that,

at least five other kids

look exactly the same,

and so their fates are private,

so my pride can be private

and devotion too,

the extended hand,

no, that should be public,

the swatted spoon the

endless lowing of

instruction, I don't

need that noticed,

a good job? Private.

Adequate job? Call

me over after to 

exchange notes. 

Incompetence? 

No-one's going to

be a better judge 

of that than I, 

if I should be better, 

than the son

I want to be.