The butcher’s friend

Dad was taking me
to the butcher
it was a steal
a deal
such an easy meal
and mom was still
in the bathroom
hanging over her life
it’s not right
it’s not right
she yelled and pouted
the mirror foggy and clouded
me and dad
dad, me
to the butcher
he thought for free
We stopped at the teacher
the preacher
the bullies
like leaches
the movies on all night
so I didn’t mind
if dad took his time,
his mood was always high
when there was enough time
We took the roads
dads took before
and it took so much time
I decided to ask why
“It’s either walk or fly,
and I’ve no tickets to fly
and my stomach is aching,
the pain’s subjugating
and the butcher where we go
is the only path I know”
“But dad don’t you see
the free meal isn’t free
And the butcher where we go,
I hate to say you’ll go alone,
though my heart aches to say so”
“But son aren’t you afraid,
you’ll meet an early grave
harassed by the creatures in the woods?”
“The woods may stretch on forever
but I will find a river
or freeze
free of the path
of a butcher”
And dad walked alone
but surrounded by the cold
he turned and saw me
heading home.
The tension gone,
the question arose
“Whom do I love more”
“Whom do I love more”
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