The Dry Cleaning Shop

Pop works all night
At the dry cleaning shop
Rereading magazines
Counting the change
Taking up time
And button-down shirts
In his hands
Waiting for folks to walk in
And say hi
On a Saturday night

He never asks me to work there
Instead he says 'Go out'
Go have fun
That's my father
Go out
Have fun
And when you grow up
Don't open a dry cleaning shop
Do something better than this

Mom says he can't keep this up forever
He gets tired
He forgets things
And he can't afford to hire help
So that means
Maybe I should pick up some nights
A Friday here or there
Help him run the place a little

But my Dad says 'No' to this
'And where does that end?' --- he asks

'First it's two nights, then three
Then every other weekend
Then every weekend
And pretty soon
His whole life is this shop'

'No,' he says, 'No'
And goes back to rereading
One of his old magazines
Licking the tip of his finger
As he turns the page
Giving away the shake in his hands

I go out because Dad tells me to
But I come back early
And visit the shop
Find him sleeping at the counter
The cash drawer closed, thank god

I help him into my car
Buckle him in the front seat
Then spend the next half hour
Shutting down the shop

We drive home
And Mom helps me
Get him up the stairs

The next day I open the shop myself--alone
And he says nothing

Only asks me when I get back
How business was

'Slow, Dad,' I say, 'Business is slow'

He nods
And opens up the newspaper
In front of him
At the breakfast table

To find out what's been happening
While he's been gone