I scream for Ice cream

I knew very well who was Genesis’ father,
although I opted not to put his name on the birth certificate.
Although I opted not to use his last name as her last name.
Although I opted not to take him to court and demand child support.

It was my choice not to fight a battle that I sought out to be worthless.
I couldn’t make him be a part of Gen’s life, to raise her and care for her if he didn’t want to.
I couldn’t force love that he never felt in the first place.

He lived 4.2 miles from my house and driving,
it would take eleven minutes to get there, according Google Maps.
Walking, it could take anywhere from an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes.

When people learned the distance between him and his daughter,
they looked at me with disbelief.
It was like she was close enough to touch her,
only if he was man enough to reach out and try.

He knew my address and how to get there from various destinations and back roads.
My mom had made it clear that we weren’t keeping Genesis away from her father,
that this was his choice, if the question was ever asked.

“It’s not like we moved,” she reminded me,
“He knows where we live and therefore,
if he wants to see Gen,
all he has to do is ring the doorbell or knock on the door,
that way, he can never say we kept him from her.”

The doorbell remained un-rung.
The door remained un-knocked.
But, still, the heartless invitation still stood.

So, can you imagine my fury the day
I saw the bastard at the Big One, a local ice cream store,
eating an ice cream with his
sweet, loving mother and his darling little sister?
The Big One is 0.4 miles from my house which is probably
less than two minutes driving and
walking would be just about five minutes,
according to Google Maps.

Yet, there he was,
less than two minutes
from his daughter,
eating an
ice cream.

(Hello 🙂 This is just a little piece from my work that I am writing, which is deeply inspired by my favorite author Ellen Hopkins [author of Burn, Glass, Crank]. She writes her novels in a poetry format, which keeps me more engaged in her story. Although her format of her writing may seem small, her stanzas or paragraphs hold a lot of meaning and dept. From writing and sharing my poems with all of you, I have recently found it is easier for me to write in poetry. I decided to take a swing at Ellen’s style, not exactly copying her, just messing around and seeing what I come up with. Here is my first rough draft, hope you enjoyed it.) 

 

By the way, this really did happen to me. My daughter’s father does in fact live 4.2 miles away, according to Google Maps. 

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Posted on April 12, 2012, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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