I'm looking at a picture of myself and my sons
standing outside a tuxedo shop in Pennsylvania
where I've just been fitted for my son Art's wedding.
Everyone looks a little silly, or stupid, maybe because
we're still hung over from the party last night and it's early
in the morning, Too early, Art keeps saying,
exasperated, angry with me
for having missed the first fitting,
but I've never seen myself like this, I'm kind of
grinning off into the distance but I have this hard,
Don't shit me look on my face, like I'm a second away
from hitting him, and I suddenly realize
I’m my father, the one my wife sees,
there's that quick fist, that disgust.