one of the things we forgot to do
in planning for my father's funeral
was cancel the newspaper he read,
its delivery one sunday a surprise.

my mother didn't read them,
but he always would, in his chair
after dinner, with a cup of coffee
leaving a ringed stain on most pages.

when it came i recalled
one night as a child when i read with him,
mine being a comic in a bazooka joe
in what would have made for a good picture.

i sat down with the paper,
and read every story, and wondered
what he would've thought about this,
and knowing what he'd hate about that.

when i was done i recycled it all,
called up the company to cancel,
and explained how we wouldn't need it,
since i was buying my mom a computer.