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"A Heart Broken Twice"

At dinner last night, there was a man who
looked surprisingly like my father. And
I say "like" because–of course–my father
is dead.

But in those brief moments when we caught each
other's eyes, I wondered–if just for a
moment–I could believe that my dad was
alive

At dinner with me, smiling because we
got to see each other one more time. I
suddenly wished my drink were Pepsi and
Hunter.

I had to stop looking at him–the man
who was not my father; forget I had
seen him. Because what is worse than a heart
broken twice?

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