Fleur di lis

His mother was a junkie.
It made him cry.
His father was a cunt.
He did not care.
He twice ran away, he twice came home.
The second time was the worst.
That time he had no control.
He sent himself to oblivion,
but was chased into returning.
I guess one day he will thank that angel.
Today he must hate him.
His father played the saxophone. He played it well.
Used to play barefoot, said it was an ode to someone famous.
He never knew who. Neither did his dad.
They used to fight lots. I think he really missed her.
It hurt she had left him. Only to stay.
They were like droplets of rain, destined for explosion.
He didn't think it would happen the way it did though.
It made him reel, he forgot, it made him love.
Buried beside each other he sometimes visits.
Its on the way to his work.
He makes shoes. Or rather he makes old shoes better. He likes to repair things, always has.
One time he repaired his best friends record player.
They both liked the Stray Cats.
His mother gets irises, only in season. They were always her favourite.
Even in the haze.
His father gets whatever. He wouldn't give a fuck. Didn't give a fuck.
He drinks whiskey like in Westerns. Usually Jack Daniels.
His mother was a junkie.
His father was a cunt.