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August 3, 2020 Poetry

The Dot

Evan Nicholls

The Dot photo

Our son was born with a dot above the bridge of his nose. So, naturally, he was a leopard. Our son was a firefighting dog. An i or an ! or the blue planet seen from space. As planned, all this lying worked wonders for his confidence. He grew up knowing he could be anything. He became a good husband & a good father. Our son bought his family a house. Took his kids to the grocery store. We were so proud. Till one day, at the grocery store, the dot became a sniper dot & blew his gray matter across a pallet of tangerines. We knew we had failed him when the president & the check-out girl knocked on our front door, said, You failed that boy.

 

image: Dorothy Chan


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