and I still do, even now that I'm older than he ever got to be.
"Daaaadeeeee!" I call as my brain bubbles in half-sleep,
but my cries are drowned out by the howling wind.
"Daaaadeeeee...I'm lost!" I yell,
running aimlessly with tear-filled eyes through this maelstrom of dead leaves
blowing over the trail so I can't find my way.
I keep calling to him, louder, louder,
the brain throbs threatening a dream stroke,
but I'm more scared of being left out here on my own.
"Daaaaaaadeeeeee!!!"
But he doesn't answer, he didn't return home,
still out on the road somewhere in that truck
that I never got to ride in.
It's been 40 years, but I still look down the darkened highways for him,
never finding him, preferring to think that he just didn't come back to me,
rather than recall that foggy Friday the 13th when his truck jackknifed,
the trailer flipping over to crush his cab, crushing me,
leaving me alone in these wind-whipped woods.
"Daaaadeeeee!"
Little boy lost, I curl up in a ball
and let the leaves cover me, letting myself disappear, as he did.