Lamar (for my Father)

Great-grandfather kept rain barrels in the backyard,
mosquito hatcheries to water his garden
though dry summers and Kansas heat.
This was a garden we couldn’t explore.

Inside the house he kept elephants and horses,
plaster statues on every shelf and mantel,
but they were not toys and we could not touch.

If we watched television
he told us to go outside.
If we played outside
he told us to quiet down.

And every summer was
“maybe the last chance we have to visit,”
so we’d load up the car and drive across the country
to visit someone who didn’t seem to want us around.

Now he’s gone and we have no more
maybe last chances to visit.