He Was No Alfred Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

He was no Alfred

The war was over my father was coming home from the sea
he had chocolate bars, and inside one there was a picture of a film star
propaganda is not new- my picture was of Clark Able
I remember the bar of chocolate as being a bit stale, but sweet.
I was in bed at the time, was pale and thing suffering from tuberculosis
my old man looked aghast and said; is this son?
A furious argument erupted, my father had to leave, never saw him again
except on the bus going into town, he sat there crying
and I left to avoid the embarrassment.
But this was years before I met Alfred, who refuses to be my father.