Gary Allen
Learning to curse
Light from the windows
of the Coronation Bar
at the corner
spills onto the street.
My father is there
with other men
it is early Saturday evening
and I am going to the shop.
He is unsteady on his feet
his eyes glazed -
I wait my chance,
try to slip past.
His hand is on my shoulder
he tries to speak -
quickly he slaps
me across the face.
The other men protest
my father mumbles something
about being ashamed of him -
tells me to piss off.
Tears come to my eyes
but I don’t cry -
under my breath I call him
every swear word I know.
Page(s) 105-106
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