“AN OLD HAND” 12 Nov 01

I saw my fathers hand
pass slowly over
the skin of a fifty something
divorcee
her neck doing well out
of the insurance money
his hand crawling
between her barren legs
I wondered silently
about what my mother might say
apparently he thinks little
of his son
seeing the way he lives his life
I take that as a compliment
I thought of an old hand
moving up old skin
my eyes move away.

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