to fluff up her shiny blond hair
and kiss her
good night
and hug
I think of the old white-washed
church with pointy windows
out in the country
her mother and I drove up to
the day before our friends
were to be married there

this, years even before
her older brother was conceived
or the brand new Vega wrecked
or the succession of bad jobs
or any of the twists of the rotted
ropes of fate from which hung
our lives and came theirs

and this night to tousle her hair
this night to kiss her fragile soft lips once more