he doesn't mean what he says.

peter stumbles around when he converses.

his brain has tossed aside so many words,

much like a piece of chewing gum that no longer has a hint of flavor

smashed on the sidewalk in front of a movie theater.

 

he doesn't mean what he says.

 

he says...when can i drive my white truck again?

he means...i want to work.

provide for my family by using my hands.

construct a building that will house a company that allows others to work and provide.

 

he says...lunch was glorious.

he means...spending time with construction buddies brings back the "glory days".

those days when work & words were so fluid.

one upmanship laced with a few crude jokes

leaves them laughing like preteen school girls.

 

he says...he is a crook.

he means...knowing my wife & family are taken care of has always been my motivation.

not only have you not held up to the agreement you wrote,

but you have stolen my wife's peace of mind

while i am sick.

only a villain would take advantage of me like this.

 

he says...you are a strong man.

he means...sweet brown eyes, daddy isn't always going to be here.

as you know, son, my mind is fading.

nine year old boys are not built for this-but you, my son are.

your task is to carry on the legacy of our family-

honesty-honor-humility.

please, make sure the doors are locked at night.

 

he says...you are beautiful.

he means...i see, chrissy, how busy you are managing so much &

you still wear mascara and lip gloss.

i see God picking up where your tired soul leaves off.

i know we are broken-but i am trusting God to tend to my family

because i an no longer capable.

 

he means so much more then those sloppy words that tumble from his month.