Came of age wearing
Polyester leisure suits,
Puka shell necklaces,
And platform shoes.
Now any permanent fashion statement
Seems a bad idea.  

Thankfully, I could shed those
Tacky, trendy fashions,
And cut that out-of-control hair,
But a tattoo I would have been stuck with
For life.

What could I have
Permanently
Inked onto my body
That I would never regret?
A barbed wire arm band?
A motorcycle brand?
A catchy saying?
Nope. Nope. Nope.  

So I did not approve of my kid’s
Tattoos or piercings.
She never asked my opinion,
I never said a word,
But no doubt she knew.
She was too smart to miss the unspoken.

Most of her tattoos were hidden
Where her Dad
Could not see them.
For that I was thankful.
How many? I have no idea.

Now that she is gone,
I try to think of something
I could buy or build or create
That would be a permanent memorial to her?
A painting? A sculpture? A song? A poem? A piece of jewelry?

She will be shocked
And amused, I think,
When I show up
On the other side of Jordan
With an inked tribute to her
Tattooed on my arm.