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.