“Joe’s Bar & Grill”
Had I heard the familiar “Your dime – speak!”
I might have recognized his voice, stayed on the line,
beseeched a ride home from the library.
But this foreign phrase persuaded me
I must have misdialed or been badly connected,
so I stammered an apology, hung up the phone
embarrassed, dialed a neighbor
(with my last dime) to deliver the message.
His truck pulled up a short time later.
He was silent as I scrambled in, but
mischief snickered in his eyes, and a smile
lingered on his lips.
A remembrance of my father (ever the practical joker) for Father's Day.
You are missed, Dad.