Vernon’s Dad

Vernon’s dad walks the streets, guitar slung

across the front of his stomach with the air

of someone who regards it as a part of himself.

And that’s what Vernon’s grandfather says, the man

who smells of beer and loss like it’s a nightly

celebration to forget to remember.

And Vernon’s dad does, too, but it’s not much of a choice

I hear because Vernon’s grandfather talks about the genius

Inside of his son’s head, the way he used to make

Music like you and I make spit.

But there’s something about genius

That can take a dark turn, can offer you

A bit more than you can chew, so it’s no wonder

Vernon took to burning it away with a needle.

When I watch Vernon’s dad walk by my house,

I thank God for music and guitars and pray

He’s passed the genius down to Vernon

Who will one day have to choose which way

to celebrate.