Jim

As I was saying
Goodbye and thank you
To the angular young man
At his warehouse door
I looked across the
Fading asphalt of the
Parking lot to see
A single open space
Beside the office door
Guarded fiercely by its
Small bronze nameplate
Jim
The patriarch of this
Extended family business
Gone before his time
Six months ago
But present still
In every careful movement
Of his care-worn son.
What courage would it take
What surge of necessary sacrilege
To peel away your father’s name
And replace it
With your own?