Pop’s dead,
and took his secrets
with him,
and honestly,
I don’t mind.

Were I
a better son
I’d wonder
about him,
even wonder
how he’s doing
in the after life,
but I figure he’s doing fine,
probably has an excellent gov’t pension,
a couple girlfriends,

and if he’s suffering
up (or down) there
well,
what am I supposed to do?
Petition the devil?

The truth is,
Pop usually did better
than I.
So is he, wherever he is,
worrying
and wondering
about me?
And if so,
what can he do,
a man in his position,
to help out?

Percy Dovetonsils

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pop-8/