A Memoir in the Making-For Dad

Good Times

I remember you driving me to kindergarten
listening to the Isley Brothers, or Gene Chandler
on the eight track
and wanting the Jackson five
album
for my record player
that you bought me on the way home
from school

I remember you dropping me off
and hearing to the click clack of
your taps against the pavement
and watching you walk
keys jingling
back to the car

I remember the scent of
Aramis as you kissed me good bye
and the smell of the Magic Shave
creeping up from underneath

Do you remember the aquariums that we kept long after the fish died
or the ten tents
that we set up in the living room
because we never got around to camping
Do you?

What about the black Cadillac
that felt like a stage coach
for this queen in the back seat

Your cuff links sparkled
Your afro was just right
right on
like Don Cornelius

I remember watching Soul Train
on Saturday mornings
and you were cool
real cool
Cooley High Cool