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Missing Persons

‘Monday Blue' half-price cocktails—

the cartoon-artist talks too little for this long night, and draws
Lenin's flat-cap, a gaunt Bolshevik with torn coat
red star on one lapel: another persona of her father who jumped
on a freight train leaving home in Portland, Oregon
she ‘never knew enough of him to know him. He seldom made contact, died.'

she forgot him. ‘I suppose so', I say and mumble about my father asleep
in Northern Idaho, aslant in slatted sunshine alongside a café—
far from Ireland, the king of coffee and cigarettes, clutching his book
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Saturday, January 11, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: memoriam
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