They didn't want to leave the playground.
"Daddy, can I try the big slide first?"
"Daddy, watch this"
The baby just says "no."
They may be young, but they know
This is the last time they will see me,
their father, for a long time.
they love me.
And they are having fun.
Running, swinging, falling, blowing dirt clouds
across the field with their tiny feet
as they run to the next jungle gym.
They refuse to let go.
They have the will, the stamina
that I no longer possess.
"Here we are now Daddy, the wind is blowing,
the sun is out and see what I can do?"
I see, feel. Nothing.
I can't, I won't.
I can't let them go.
at 12:45
they make their last climb,
take their last slide,
shuffle off to the car.
The baby fights when I put her in her car seat.
We take one last drive.
Past out old house, down the 'big wheee'
and down fifth avenue.

My ex isn't even there.
She hasn't the balls
the maturity
the decency
to say good-bye.

The baby,
she doesn't understand.
She's happy to see her mother's boyfriend.
The only life she's known.

The five year old wants to put me in a box.
And put me in the back of the truck.
So I can go with them.

Hugs and kisses from all.
My six year old
the hardest
my first born,
sits on my lap
tells me of Power Rangers and Batman.

I hold her,

I tell her, several times,
"It's time for me to go."

She just keeps talking.