The Big Red Pontiac
by Denise Sochin
©Gerry Gomez
Saturdays I looked for my father in bars.
My mother made me do it.
Wringing her hands on the steering wheel as she waited,
in the big red Pontiac.
In one bar and out the other, searching,
through a maze of darkly cushioned doors.
Blinded by the sun, then into dimly lit rooms.
Smoke-filled and stale, the soft sound of voices and ice clinking against glass.
Dark shapes bent over sorrows, escaping their miseries.
My father was in there somewhere, with someone not my mother.
She waited with her tight lips and prim sweater,
in the big red Pontiac.
Bio
Denise Sochin grew up in Los Gatos, CA and later lived for many years in Virginia with her husband and two sons. Her family recently relocated back to the Bay Area where Denise is exploring the art of creative writing through classes at Diablo Valley College.
paintedcave 