The Bond Between a Father and Daughter

“Go pick up your father.” my mother tells me where to go what I don’t tell her is that I am so stoned that Humpty Dumpty could fall off me and I wouldn’t see the pieces or his men driving is a Cheech and Chong experience I have to keep checking the speedometer to make sure that I AM going above 10 MPH This would be funny except that the place is small    dark and by the waterside ya know      dirty glass bricks halfway up the wall    a plywood door window  and a half lit OLD MIL neon beer sign I go in and in the middle of the floor in the middle of the bar right in front of the stools Slinkyman            Dancing pushing his pelvis in and out like some horny Gumby trying to make nice to Pokey except that he keeps missing the sweet spot          hey dad I look over at the bartender (take him home honey) and get one of those looks like you used to give the homeless before there were so many that it cost too much we sit at the bar and I order a couple of Dewars on the rocks with a twist my father and I always drank scotch on Christmas    birthdays      veterans day let’s go home dad    these are my friends    let’s go home dad    I am bombed    let’s go home dad I don’t help him to the car I get in and reach across the seat to open the door I grip the steering wheel to take stock of      ME my dad looks at me I don’t look at him because his swaying is making me seasick and says: “I am bombed” I want to tell him that the scotch made me a little heavier like a balloon filled with air instead of helium but what I do say is: “That’s OK dad because I am so stoned that you’re gonna have to help me drive.” he flings his face forward grips the dashboard in front of him                                             he got it on the second try and says: “OK we’ll make it.”