Imaginary Dad
By Tina Cane
Was so imaginary he ceased to exist
he wasn’t sleeping in a treehouse or stalking the woods
in fatigues cheeks smeared green with camouflage grease
a knife between his teeth like I had envisioned him
he was just a married guy
living
in a small town near a dozen of my made-up cousins
kin so distant they didn’t even know to miss me
all their lives
I’d picture them
fumbling in their pockets through loose change
patting their pants in search of something
left behind all the time never knowing
what it was
or what it was like
to eat Twizzlers while watching Apocalypse Now
in a darkened theater on Bleecker St.
to think
each time a soldier appeared on screen Now, there’s a dad
if I ever saw one because of course they’d seen one
he was nothing like that and he belonged to me
