There is a daughter of twelve years
A mother with dry tears no longer young
And there is a man in the corner
A husband and father
Coming undone
Smoking like a firing gun
Blind as open eyes in the sun
Smiling his mannequin smile
From the other side of the glass
That he's hiding behind
Daughter waits like a shadow
To wade in the shallow end of the room
Mother loves her but wants her
To finish her homework
She stays aloof
Holding the cards in her hand
Holding her hand in her palm
There but not speaking a word
Doubling down on her dime
Cause she knows money talks
And it's a long way till a holiday
Still her long face is always on
Father notes from the corner
The distance between them
Far wall to wall
He shakes the drink in his right hand
Stares at the amber waves in the glass
Chimes of the ice ringing cold
The lines around his eyes slowly fold
He glows as his body grows old
Too gone to mind
How the rest of the evening will go
Daughter does her equations
Read through the chapter
Looks up the words
In a thick dictionary
With bible-thin pages
Easy to turn
Twirling the curls of her hair
She wonders why her father's over there
When mother's poker-faced in the chair
Playing black-jack all alone
Like it was solitaire
And it's a long way till a holiday
Still her long face is always on