The sippy cup rolls on the floor.
I wonder what kind of life you will have?
Your father with his beard
his bright shirt
his black vest
his bowl haircut
your kerchief
your cherubic cheeks
your family on the train
playing cards in the club car
drinking sodas
or is it water
i don’t know
but is it
that
you are one of the only children
who doesn’t squall
on the train
you seem
so happy
your father is doting on you
holding you
singing songs to you
you are stroking his beard
his strange beard
his Amish beard
I see a book of poetry. “riding the silver rails”