Improv - Seamus Heaney, "Digging"

All along the watchtower
my father paces, walking in
an undead fashion through
the tiny world of Lamar Hutchinson.

He once rode a shaky chariot
on a peeled leather throne--
his proclamations  filtered through
a shot-up transmission.

I don't remember--
did he yell or gesture me into
the cab of that fat-assed truck
when i learned how to redneck

through traffic? Regardless, we're
older now; strong in words but
not bodies--we both know how
to drive, but we'd rather not know

where we're going.