He wasn’t a bad man
But there wasn’t a lot of good In him
we spent hours wandering 
making phone calls and chasing down cars 
our bare feet thudding against the freshly paved streets
My feet were scalded, hot and blisterd
the color of his face after he got done screaming
scarlet and angry
He always told me
the minute we are born we start dying
there was no outrunning it 
We couldn’t make back room deals or place bets or pay off death 
Money meant nothing 
He told me we were better off broke
I pretended to listen
another drunken man rambling 
Telling me how life is and how I just don’t understand 
I said nothing 
he didn’t understand I didn’t fear the certainty of death
what scared me was the life that came before it