Pop

Adult children called him Pop,

If he spoke to them,

the kids answered “Sir.”

He exhaled a mixture of breakfast bourbon

and Prince Albert in a can.

His mustache mouse and coal dark blue eyes

       accompanied his angry walk.

He exceled at polo, towing a canoe,

       and lassoing a running horse,

But he never found solace.

Alone with his demons he died

       in the liquor store’s snowy parking lot.

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