I wonder what it would be like to be a baby and held in your father’s arms and wonder what the mustache was doing there and what it was there for when your father would sing to you and hold you in his arms. I don’t know what it would feel like because my father didn’t have a mustache. And seldom would he sing. I suspect that is because he never had a mustache. As a man without a mustache, he would simply hold me in his arms and stare.
Ricky Garni is a writer and machinist born in Florida and living in North Carolina. His most recent publications can be found in Boaat, Bitchin’ Kitsch, Yellow Chair Review and Section 8 Magazine. His latest works are Pinky Embrace, via 101 Secret Wing Dings, and a bonbon collection of six poems by Bitterzoet.
