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The routine.

he was always up and gone before the crack of dawn.

Home around 6.

Parked in his chair,

it was TV,

Jim Beam &

Chesterfield Kings til 9.

Quiet.

Frowning.

Repeat.

Sometimes,

if i was quick to the window,

I could snag a peek of my dad's shadowy coat and black tie figure

heading to the car.

Crawling back into bed,

I would say to no one in particular

Doesn't look like much fun.

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Wow, I could see and feel all of this so vividly! I sure hope that little boy got to grow up and do something that was more fun than what he had modeled for him!

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Thank you lisa, and

ha, ended up on a submarine.

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Oh wow! WeтАЩve done a couple submarine tours, so my kids have spent a lot of time discussing/imagining what that would be like.

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Thats pretty cool you all checked them out.

Two boys, right?

once we actually get out & on patrol, its pretty quiet and uneventful, reading lots of books and marking the days off the calender,

til something breaks, or we bump into something. (iceburg?).

In port, it is not pretty quiet.

a tribal kind of thing, comes with lots of sea stories.

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DAMN. I felt this, Chuck. Days and days and days of this scene, embedded like glass in a tender psyche.

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This one is definitely evocative, like Larry said. My bedroom window faced the driveway growing up, and I have similar memories of watching my dad leave first thing if I happened to wake up early enough (his work routine never liked like much fun, either).

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This is quite evocative, Chuck. The story in various versions for so many of us, I expect. Reminds me of the Happy Chapin song "Cat's in the Cradle". Except unlike the son in the song, mny of us learned what you did looking out that window.

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Yeah. Thank you.

We all managed to work thru it OK.

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Powerful words Chuck. Rather sad but just ordinary life I suppose.

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Yeah, we didn't know any other.

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You can say that again! Great imagery (and visceral drudgery) in this poem, with a wry punchline to boot.

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