In black and white ink my father
the rain coming down sideways
umbrella overhead charcoal pissing
the match as he tries to light
the flame to cook our burgers
while we huddle in a pop-up trailer
bored with our luck
A caricature of himself
scotch-taped to the fridge for decades
the man and his family on vacation
The rain penned him in he sketched
the hours and the days
artist turned father turned salesman
He made a choice mom says
I don’t remember the choice
remember only the gesture
rain painting my father, a man