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letra de the mexican restaurant where i last saw my father - anika pyle

the mexican restaurant where i last saw my father

[stanza]
i think the last time i saw my father
was at la fogata mexican in the mile high city
he was afraid to drive past happy canyon road
where years before he was in an accident
making it a not-so-happy canyon for him
i thought that endearing
my mother less so, but still she drove me
an hour out of her way to meet him at the restaurant
he had just gotten his license
after nearly fifteen years of being unable to drive
as court orderеd by the state of colorado
i am sure it was frightеning regaining such power
he wore a blazer, uncharacteristic
we squeezed into a circular booth
the table next to us was a family
discussing sending their daughter to college
the service was terrible, but the two of us
both working in restaurants were forgiving
and anyway, neither of us were strangers to failure
we welcomed the extra time it took for the dishes to arrive
seeing as how little time we’d had together our whole lives
i don’t remember what he ate
or what he said to me when we parted at the curb side check-in
or what we talked about on the ride to the airport
i wish i had a transcript of the entire evening
the next ten months of conversations
i can hear his voice in my head
and i’m grasping at it
frantically searching for some kind of
neural lock box to put it in so i don’t forget it
i feel it’s already slipping
and it’s only been three days since he died
forty hours i lived a normal life
while his body lay lonely in a coroner’s… drawer? bag? box?
i can only recall the sickly morgues of television crime shows
and episodes of the twilight zone
which must be why i dreamt of a black cloud
ominously approaching
the clouds not clouds at all
but swarms of the dead, mangled bodies of children
forty hours he laid there
while the police went knocking on a door
that no longer belonged to me
and i made rice and scrolled through the internet
like everything was orderly and still
i think my dad took me straight to the airport that night
or we stopped for pie and coffee
i got key lime and a cappuccino
[stanza 2]
his favorite was key lime
i hated it as a child
it has near instantaneously become
my most cherished flavor
i’m not sure if that was the same night
but the brain is tricky this way
someone you love dies
suddenly, all of time is compressed and every moment looped

[stanza 3]
the time at the train station
the time at the bookstore
the time we got coffee
the time we went shopping
the time we ate ice cream
the time we ate sushi
when was the last time my father saw me cry?

[stanza 4]
nothing is insignificant any longer
the loop exists to keep someone as alive as possible
their voice, the intricacies of their facial twitching
their order at the mexican restaurant
grief is a grasping for the little things
in the end, they are the only things
everything

- anika pyle

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