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Then
Dad lumbered up the stairs,
A slumbering sloth,
Falling--
A thump of smothered thunder,
A heavy rum-soaked coat,
Landing with a slushing thud
When
The ringing doorbell
Shot me
Off the bare floor,
Speeding me down the dark hallway
To the front door,
Where a man stood
Waiting,
Beaming his searchlights
From aging owl eyes,
Emerging from
The clear black sober sky,
I,
Flapping,
A shredded husk in the wind,
My averted gaze and trembling hand
Reaching for the
Popping doorknob,
Breaking it right off,
The sound,
Thrusting me
Like an arrow out of sleep,
To search for a man
Standing at the front door,
Fading...
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