PATERNITY
Would you believe how bearded I am? Man, you should see how these black strands are a menace on my light face. Would you care to know how tall I am? 5'8" is the answer. I weigh a whopping 79 kilograms, down from 116 at the height of grief, as you would know. Mum’s colleagues kept you upraised all the while. Shame
20+ years later, I am still alive, stronger yet volatile. I am the first (unsure) of those you have sired, calling you so as we both know why it is so. I am the darkest in the line, my grandfather yellow to a fault, a silver fox at 83, the black sheep [you might have effectively contributed to that]
I am the Brown guy walking the streets looking for a father. Turned on by the sight of a man laughing with his son, walking him in town, hand in hand, occasionally hoisting him into his arms or shoulders, tickling and nudging him, a display priceless to me.
I am the man who looks at matured men like some schemer, ever plotting what I could get from them to fill that gap. Lusting after the joys of having some big brother to talk to, a father to breakdown in front of and get reprimanded in love. To hear a gruff voice in the house every morning and know mum is well cared for.
I was the one who looked for you. Sought you out from your den of feigned ignorance and oblivion. You taught me better. I stayed off, scratching the naive thoughts and emotions I had of a man I believed was my father.
I learnt my place, the outcast, the seed cast beyond the fence, the undocumented trial. I was finally to see the truth. Say, how was sit a shock that unprotected sex yielded a life? A student of Biology once lusting for the medic-in-waiting, if the story holds water.
Now “dad”, would you care to know that work is my next step in life? Do you know that I soon shall become you? Yes, you. The bright fellow that fell for a yellow lady and bailed when she turned up with a bump.
I feel it in my blood.
My DNA I guess.
So how would you like to finally meet me? Gate crush my graduation? Sneak into my wedding ceremony and/or reception?
Would you love to read my name in the newspaper and Shame yourself, unable to explain to the mother of your kids what got the better of you? Or would you want to see a black and white photo of me, with a small caption and definition in the obituaries?
What will make you yield old man?
The streets are all I know and DIY videos on YouTube for my quick fixes.
Love your children better, better than you ever did me.
