Coming in and going out

I don't remember my birth,
All that red pink cheap rubber skin.
It was a long time ago and
I'm not sure I was even there.

My father wasn't there.
Fathers were only allowed to pace
Up and down the corridor back then.
Didn't want them getting in the way.
Phone calls, handshakes, cigars, whiskey.

I watched my father leave behind
His yellow wasted rubber skin.
No cigars, no whiskey, just hugs
And with a bit of luck,
Maybe he wasn't even there.