that moment

that moment

spring vacation
home from college
drove to my local park
filled with leafing trees
looking for hope

pulled over, stunned— 
my father’s Lincoln
parked, alone
lunchtime
brown paper hiding 
the bottle
tilting his head
glugging the contents

sliding down in the seat
he mustn’t know
I’m privy to his need
to block, to soothe
getting, for the first time
no icon
just a man,
consoling his pain