Moving The Bed

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A father moving 

his daughter's bed

to a new apartment.

"I need your help," she says,

"just this one time." 

I doubt it will fit

inside the sedan

I tell her, and I can't drive 

across the city in broad 

daylight with your mattress 

bungee-strapped to the roof

like an advertisement,

like a lit-up taxi sign meaning available.

Next excuse: My sciatica,

I say, and then, without thinking -

you must know some guys 

with overdeveloped biceps 

and a van.

"I could never 

count on you," 

my daughter says, 

without any idea

how much that hurts,

or maybe some idea.

She's always been right

when she said (to her mother)

Dad can be an asshole.

Damn the uselessness of shame

and small cars.

Damn the helplessness

of fatherhood

and one-way love.