a poem by Travis Blair

My Father's Eyes

Of all places
in a land as big as Texas
I encountered him on the bridge
crossing over from Piedras Negras
into Eagle Pass.

He was walking out of Mexico
his arm around a girl
half his age.
They smelled of whiskey
and old fish.

He grinned when he saw me
but his eyes didn’t smile.
What are you doing here?
he asked.

I'm going to film
the bull fights, I answered
with an awkward shuffle
of feet.
What about you?

We're headed back
to the room to take a bath.

He introduced me
to Ann Marie
and when I said Glad to meet you
she told me I possessed
my father's eyes.

I never mentioned her
to mom, of course,
or anybody else

but whenever I get caught
in something I shouldn't do
and smile
I wonder if my eyes
are as transparent
as my father's.

© by Travis Blair
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #10 ~ July 2010    return to top