Ode to Materialism (Willie Soniat - Baton Rouge, LA)

 

Once my father taught me what kind of man he is
In words said in an offhand conversation,
One which he probably doesn’t remember.
He was asked what makes a man
And I standing to his side
with my fairytale filtered ears
And comic book colored eyes
Looked to him expecting the words by which I would build myself.
I expected the grand speech that Ben gave Peter
When he told him of power and responsibility,
That Robert gave Virgil
When he told him the color of his actions,
I wanted him to place his hand on his chin
And hesitate to answer,
Finding the words profound enough to make superheroes.
But he did not hesitate
He simply grew a whiskey tethered smile
and yelled his next words like a man at Mardi Gras
I’m Materialistic.
He explained how he cared about what he wore
He flaunted what he could buy
He worked hard on the grind
For the all the glitters of gold chains
And jeweled rings
He wanted the best truck,
The best clothes,
The best house
with the best foods in the fridge
He said he was materialistic
and he was proud of it.
My father said he was a man of his possession
I am older now
Taller than him now
I no longer live in my father’s nice house now.
Nor do I eat the good food in the fridge.
I don’t expect anything from him anymore
He’s trying to talk to me more
Though I don’t see it in speech bubbles anymore
Usually explaining advice he forgot to tell me growing up
And saw me do so in the reflection of his shiny truck.
He gave me one of his gold chains
One that didn’t fit the very next week
He said that’s my fault
I grew up too fast.
I still remember that day
The words probably said by a man to drunk at a party
But that day
My father taught me what kind of man he was.