Day Seven: Family Matters

This assignment was especially difficult for me--not because of the subject matter (I'll write about anything) but because it was written at the end of a very long and arduous weekend.  It's more of a work in progress than anything else.

MIDNIGHT CONFESSIONS

I never knew who my father was
until I was nearly nineteen,
my mother spilled her guts
after six or eight Schlitz malt liquors,
explained that I was a love child
conceived with a man she'd met in Old Town
who suddenly
jumped onto a table in a coffee house
and began chanting poetry,
while young women, including my mother,
clamored around his feet, begging for more.
Somehow
this never surprised me a bit.