I suppose I see him as the rational man.. my Step-father..
He's one of those elemental forces in my life.. one to whom I am
obdient and depedant. You would have to say he's a serious
person, relyable.. stiletto-straight, to say the least extravigant in his
pride of me.. a true gardian of the young who challenges and interferes. .
yet emotionally living at some infinately distant boundry.

I am not unaware of debts.. I owe him so much..
the world beneath my very nose, the creation of a home..
and in some ways i'm sure I hold him off, that I am, like Cherubino,
in Mozart's Le Nozze di figgero, forever inconsoleable
about loseing my real father..

I can't say I really know my Stepfather.. I know he loves my Mom..
I know what he might like for Christmas.. but I haven't exactly been invited
into his inner world. I see him mostly breezing in, investigating it all,
voicing his approval and moving on. I think he has an impatience
with youth.. gripping the handlebars to show how easy it is.. I'm sure
he wonders how I can handle the simplest of problems so clumsily..
adulthood certainly has its comforts.. like knowing so many of the answers.

Disorder, for him, is like indigestable gristle.. I see him, pencil line mouth,
enduring horse play and noise of a house full of girls or the choas of my
latest tantrum and wanting to loose himself in action.. for one moment,
away from his work like being temporarily on some inconvienient diet.

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