Caldor

He bought brown rainbow Caldor sheets
to brighten shag carpet, beige and moldy.
ET nightgowns, Cabbage Patch,
Prince aluminium tennis racquet.
Braces.

But what I remember is:
waiting for him to pull up late in his 280-ZX,
always afraid he wasn't coming;
Snoopy suitcase, zipper gaping open;
TV blaring Orioles while I missed my mother.

Twenty-seven years pass.
I'm the age he was in my memories.
We've worked hard for fatherdaughter.
We're caustic, sarcastic, anything but real.
Pretending I didn't need what he couldn't give.

The sting of being eight, locked outside, waiting for him to make time,
like sun in my eyes.