The way Barbara Eden used to lounge
in her fancy bottle, flopping
onto that circular purple sofa
piled high with velvet pillows,
is the way I imagine my father
loafing inside of his marble urn.
Only instead of a tulle veil and
see-through bloomers, he is dressed
in gym shorts and cushioned sneakers,
the Nike Air Maxes he wore to every
occasion, including my college
interviews. And instead of gazing
into a handheld mirror or at a headshot
of Tony Nelson, he is reclining
in his favorite La-Z-Boy, watching
a Turner Classic Movie or a game
of women’s basketball, overall
fairly content, but willing to drop
what he’s doing and come billowing up
in a plume of smoke—even now—
should I happen to lift the heavy lid
and softly call his name.
–
Doug Fritock is a writer, husband, and father of four living in Redondo Beach California. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rattle, ONE ART, and Prime Number Magazine among others. He is an active member of Maya C. Popa’s Conscious Writers Collective.