Taught

Taught 

Taught me how to dress
I love to wear bow ties and fedoras

Taught me how to love my daughters
Because I watched how you treated my sister

Taught me it's okay to be awkward in affairs of the heart
When you told me about your first

Taught me how to explore the world on less than a dollar
Museums are incredible vaults

Taught me to drive by sitting me in your lap while steering your two ton truck
Guiding my juvenile hands over the stick as we barreled through the city on your delivery route

Taught me to respect men of other tribes
Mr. Ginsberg your boss
Our neighbor Mr. Rodriguez
They were to be called sir, uncle or maybe even brotha to convey love and respect 

Took my sister and I to our first Broadway show 
Raisin in the Sun 
I learned the path men walk can be sweetly treacherous  

For every lesson learned 
I wanted a thousand more 
You taught me because you couldn't listen

(July 31, 1976)