on the hypothetical death of my unacknowledged biological father (unsure of date written)

when i say 'enveloped'
i don't mean a flooding sensation
of microfleece over ears
or the horror of bleached pulp
licked without consent
ejected with bad directions
just perceptible to good cops
with restless legs

when i said 'enveloped'
i really meant to say dead
there was no velvet denotation
i just was afraid to address it

i stopped checking the mail
you were dead either way

*

we met in a bar
everything cost seven dollars

we met in an office
other wealth littered your desk

we saw our reflections in
passing on either side of the street
i saw the shape of my strawberry

stooped bobbing deliciously
looking for an origin story

split open our halves off record
clashed the facts gleaned
from the facade tome

we laughed about hair
how it has always been a plantation

*

i waited two years for one
presumed difficult things
to confirm the worst
dishwashered the letters
what an unscrupulous mess

my shrink knows this
i always tell him the almost truth
he showed me something on a
bright screen to prove a point

my secret was enveloped
he didn’t die
stop using that verb already

when he is ready i will know
my strawberry will say: check the mail