Tallest Man I’ve Ever Known
Daddy was a monster was a god was a tree was a mountain.
I guess I was some kind of doll.
Six feet seven inches.
He stood over me his blue eyes shining rage
his belt swinging
his words reducing me to so much ash.
This is common.
He was nineteen when I was born.
Nineteen is a difficult age in 1973 rural Texas.
A man’s hands can bleed in a brick factory.
A man’s mind can go haywire over eggs and diapers
and Nixon then Ford in office
and Led Zeppelin on the radio
as bodies burned in Vietnam.
Then there was the matter of Jesus and the whole crucifixion thing.
Daddy felt so guilty he put all the money in the collection plate.
I was jealous of my friend Dixie playing with her Batman and Robin
in the pew as the preacher droned on about the lake of fire.
I caught a glimpse of how things were supposed to be while watching
Pa hug Laura on the television that had three channels.
Half Pint, he called her.
That sounded like love to me.
Fast forward to 2024.
My dad sends me a text message that makes me sob
because it took five decades to receive it.
I’m the most amazing person he has ever known.
I was such a pretty baby I made Shirley Temple look ugly.
Then he sent a picture he took of himself sitting in his den
crammed with dead animals he killed in Africa
the lamp he inherited from his mother
buttering the room so gold holy
and all I could see of my dad
was his hand clutching a glass filled with ice cubes and amber liquid.
It was probably whiskey.
I sobbed thinking he was going to kill himself with one of his guns.
I sobbed looking at the moon remembering something he told me
on our road trip to visit his parents’ and sister’s graves back when
I didn’t own a pair of cowboy boots but still felt mostly alive.
He gave me the best gift of my life, told me that one night
we were riding over Lake Bridgeport and I looked out the window
at the moon on the water
and I cried out, “Mama!” and threw my pacifier out the window
into the water like some kind of sacrifice.
“I guess you thought the moon was your mama,” he said with a laugh.
And my heart burst with a billion lights.
I know he will never read these words so maybe I’ll write him a card
before it’s too late
and try to sum it all up with some kind of haiku.
Dad, you did your job.
I am so glad to know you.
Hope to see you there.
“Tallest Man I’ve Ever Known” is included in Misti’s forthcoming book of poetry and cassette, Super Cherry Extra, coming soon and available at the Underground Lit Fest in Toledo on November 7-8.
Misti Rainwater-Lites shuffles tarot cards to keep the lights on and scribbles lines and makes sick beats to maintain a semblance of sanity while melting from triple digit heat and menopause in San Antonio, Texas. She does it all for the nookie so you can take that cookie and shove it up your ass.
