Father knew wealth.
Of all his brothers he was the only one with a job.
So when he said he wished to pursue a dream,
It was only logical the only currency he would swim in would be poverty.
He said it was in his soul to play.
So he put down his axe to focus on the sax.
Trading “ching ching” sounds to hear vocal notes
Even though our lives were caving in, he sought solace in women with high octaves
From night shift, to night shows
Less food to eat, but had his fill of bottles
and even though mom was a schemer she was intrenched in her place
She was the head settler and mastered the art of settling
Settling for leaking roofs,
an uneducated daughter
and blue eyes for make up whenever father found liquid courage
Father was a generous man, quick to dish out beatings,
Word play was his forte, new insults came easily
He gave much but what he shared most was his inheritance
Grandfather died in debt, father passed the torch
So now I run the race
Jumping hurdles hoping to fall into money
Competing against opponents from different backgrounds
Trying to think of ways to run faster
Hoping that one day, I might cross the finish line.