I’m uncertain if the man in the Target parking lot
is actually playing or if his clarinet is merely rigged
to the speaker welcoming tips and ignorance;
that’s how it goes until perception meets finality.
And when I recently sat next to my 20-something
son watching a movie about magicians, the sound-
track I played for myself was different than when
I sat next to my now 70-something dad a decade
ago and saw a movie in which a man killed a
Grizzly with only a knife and grit. These days
I’m filled with more answers than questions as
if I forgot to ask the basics such as, How was your
day, son? We either succumb to or strangle the
bears that appear before us, the way a dad shapes
or breaks a legacy with his bare hands, and at 52,
I’m only now beginning to examine the effect
my callouses have had on those whose hands
I’ve ever held. After the movie, I hugged my
son goodbye until the next time I flew in to
see him and I stepped into the center of the
subway car, my body balanced by a pole as if
propping up a man learning how to mend each
bad note he’s ever played.
Daniel Romo's latest book is American Manscape (Moon Tide Press 2026). More at danieljromo.com.