"What's going on, dad?

"..storm warning tonight after midnight. I'm trying to decide whether to get out of here and beat the weather...
..or, what?
Stay and suffer."

We depart, I with heart take part and fall from you without a tear, so that you may understand my fear when I guess that I had meant what I had said when I had said that I would wait for this, and with an apparent hiss of the hydraulics the train's momentum alone will take me home.
That day you drove me, it seems I trust you, even in sleep. Last night we drank and it wasn't easy but we got by -- it hurt me to be put on stand by, to simply watch and let you cry.
I looked through squinted eyes, alike a looking glass, as so that I would not forget. I guess I will wait until it's too late, if you let me.
"forget me not," I'd written on your bedroom mirror in make-up, and if you'd have awoken sooner you'd have seen the illustration clearer but instead your mother had wiped it most of the way off and left me a mess, on your sofa, alone, on the other-side of your life; where vanity exists.