Dad (I will never reach Nirvana)

waiting in your office I stood and looked at
all the photos of your family
enthroned in Buddha's paradise
inert there in their bliss upon your desk
of all of them I chose to hate the smiling boy the most
somewhere past the halide sheen within the solid memory
this boychild gets to be your son
this image gets to call you father
while I'm drowning in a liquid dream