Paper Trail

My father enjoys  
Paying bills
As he listens
To music
Each morning
Since the times
That I can remember
His footsteps
So early

And it’s frightening
Just how appropriate
This scene
In my head
Which keeps playing  
For reasons
I long feared
Were evidence
For me
As his son  

As an image
With relevant
Of a life
That is given
New meaning
By the glory days
Of his successes
He attempts
To reclaim
By each check

While melodies
Ring true
On the radio
As he works
To make up
The lost chances
Of a dream
He’s longed to
Or define outside
Of such lines

These limits
And fees
Of his ledgers
Or the sums
And balance
Which finance
A misery
He keeps entertaining
As he hums
To the tune
Of his end

An obsession
Over every detail
In the riches
He’s argued
Are worth it
Unlike my mother
Who raised me
To feel
And make songs
Of my own

Far from
The sadness
Which haunts us
As it hangs
On those sounds
In our kitchen
When hearing him
His own happiness
Like a legacy
Left only
In cash.

We are not
Very different.

In a way
We both worship
With paper.

- J. Pigno