sometimes happiness is whiskey and Women.
my father has a clear voice,
i could describe it with the certainty most fools possess.
whenever he whistles our hair follicles erect in unison, beaming with newness as the sounds sip through their cracks.
my father prefers the company of whiskey and friends, women and praise.
whenever sits in their midst his cheeks look powdered and pink, he's happy.
he's never alone
unless he's home.