Dad's Baby Picture

Look at that, I said to my son:
Before your dad was a bad-ass—

skipping out on the Young Calvinists’ Convention,

busting his hamstrings and concussing his head

on a skateboard at fifty miles an hour,

getting kicked out of college
and showing up on the evening news—

he was a flaxen-haired cherub,

with cheeks so chubby and glossy

they might as well have been basted in butter,

wearing short pants and knee socks,

his plump hands folded in his lap.