One day I will have a son.

He will inherit all my tomes of poetry.

Every book of Billy Collins,

Charles Bukowski,

the complete collection of Emily Dickinson,

and Sylvia Plath,

along with three copies

of ‘Leaves of Grass’

which I will read to him at night.

I will make sure our walls

are adorned with paintings

and the reverberation of music.

I will show him how to play

guitar and piano

and old records.

He however,

will be a football star

major in business

use my books as coasters

and be nothing like me.

And I,

will never be more proud of anyone,

for anything.

ever.