searching for truth between third base and home

we stood in the front yard
having a catch
I was seven still learning
to throw
skinned knees missing teeth
barefoot and tan
summer bliss
having a catch
with my dad

soon

darkness found us
and you
were no longer here
gone for years
I stood alone
a world gone silent
an empty tomb
emotions buried
beneath a marker
that read
“why dad, why”

once

staring up at twenty
learned about life
from the words of others
pigeon tracks
upon the printed page
no dad primed
with real world answers
no father explaining
the differences
between fucking
and making love
left to divine the truth
amidst the lies
in letters sent
to penthouse magazine