Parents

in camo and pajamas

reeking of cigarettes

and marijuana

and hard work

and BO

at the 7^th and 8^th grade show.

A bunch of kids

playing instruments

for people

that don’t really care.

Moms and Dads

swiping phone screens

talking

not giving a shit about anything

because they confuse being present

with parenting.

I wait for my boy to pound sticks against skin

as people return

again and again

to the spaghetti line

the ice cream line

the soft drinks line

and all I can feel is how much I love

being Dad

when I see him

doing this simple thing.

Making music

without knowing it

getting his insides out

in the middle of this

bullshit.