Just Like You by David Boski

We got into an argument, after dinner,
at the bar, and as we were walking home
she looked at me and said:
“your father was probably a piece of shit,
just like you.”
I was immediately filled with rage, I felt
the whiskey in my blood begin to boil,
my head started spinning, emotions began
stirring, and my eyes began to well up.
She had struck a nerve, she knew exactly
what she was doing; just two months earlier
she had been at my father’s funeral with me,
crying, and trying to provide support.
Now she was making a comparison and
voicing her opinion about a man she had
never met; which is funny, cause she had
never met her father either.
He ran back to his other family after he
found out her mother was pregnant.
I made sure I told her this and when we
arrived home, things were thrown, more insults
were hurled, and I threw her shit on the back
porch before telling her to get the fuck out;
so, I could be sure I lived up to her accusation.

About David Boski:

David Boski lives in Toronto. His poems have appeared in: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Horror Sleaze Trash, Under The Bleachers, Down in the Dirt, Beatnik Cowboy, Winamop, Ramingo’s Porch, Cactifur, North Of Oxford and elsewhere. His chapbook “Fist Fighting and Fornication” is out now and available through Holy&intoxicated Publications.