In the past ten years, I have seen
my father perhaps ten times, and while
that is almost certainly an exaggeration
it tells the truth of this story: my house
only felt like a home underwater, in floods;
my father was an astronaut because to me
stars or the distant flashing of satellites
seemed closer than wherever he was;
when I hear a Jeep outside, I think
it might be him, come to get me.
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