{"id":53755,"date":"2019-06-22T20:58:39","date_gmt":"2019-06-23T00:58:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=53755"},"modified":"2019-06-22T20:58:39","modified_gmt":"2019-06-23T00:58:39","slug":"hour-10-24","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2019\/06\/hour-10-24\/","title":{"rendered":"Hour 10"},"content":{"rendered":"

Father’s Day Hike<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We drink coffee out of a styrofoam cup<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and water from a canteen. You gave up<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Irish whiskey and scotch and now<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

gripe about it constantly.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

But we both know better.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hush. There is a doe at the trailhead<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

one hoof held high, eyeing us nervously<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the same colors as the trees in the fog. You say<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

she reminds you of my mother.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

And that is as close to romantic as you get,<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

when you snap a picture to show her later.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We hike through the firs to the dock,<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and strip down to our swimsuits. It’s not warm,<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

but it also isn’t crowded, and as you like to remind me<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

the lake-bottom feels better on what’s left of your toes<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

than concrete.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I watch you swim, like I did when I was ten<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and you, buoyed by the water<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

smile like a child. And then say<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cdamn, it’s cold\u201d with blue lips and we light a fire.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Dinner is hotdogs and trail mix.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And we head back to the car<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and I put you back in the ground<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

and I say \u201csleep well, old man,<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

because someday we will meet again.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Father’s Day Hike   We drink coffee out of a styrofoam cup and water from a canteen. You gave up Irish whiskey and scotch and now gripe about it constantly. But we both know better.   Hush. There is a doe at the trailhead one…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":188,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-53755","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53755","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/188"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=53755"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53755\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":53761,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53755\/revisions\/53761"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=53755"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=53755"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=53755"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}