i'm turning into my dad 

that year he started working the night shift
was the same year we put curtains up
in the living room. they smelled too new.
the upstairs tv played static & my brother 
& i sat in front of it, 
pretending to see stories before bed. 
we didn't have cable yet or a computer.
we wore over-sized t-shirts as pajamas
& traversed the house--stamping it with our 
bare feet. dad worked as a janitor at the factory. 
that's what he told us. i never saw
the inside of his building 
or even the door he walked through 
to enter. i'd lay down
on the bottom bunk & listened
for the front door to close 
as he left each night.
i tried to imagine the halls. did he walk 
with a bucket & mop? did he polish windows?
a circular motion rubbing at the glass.
a circular motion scrubbing the ground.
the only janitor i knew was the one
at the elementary school. 
he had a scratchy looking beard & 
sometimes he ate lunch with us. 
i wondered who dad at lunch with 
& if any other dads brought their children.
were there other janitors? 
i never asked him any of these questions.
i wore one of his old shirts to bed
& waited on the sofa in the morning 
for him to come home. static on the tv.
i memorized a joke to tell him
about the static but forgot it the moment
i saw him. his rumpled blue coat
& his mess of grey-black hair. 
he asked why i was up so early
& i said i was waiting for him. 
the curtains were green & sheer. 
almost like the veil of my communion dress
hanging in my closet upstairs. 
he sat beside me. i saw him
on his hands & knees now
trying to get a stain out of a linoleum floor.
his faint reflection in the floor.
the gleam of florescent lights above.
i asked him how work was & he shrugged.
back then i assumed children took the jobs
of their parents so i was trying
to learn what my life would be like
when i was a night janitor. i looked forward to it.
i thought maybe he got to work 
entirely alone. maybe the plant was peaceful at night.
maybe he could talk to himself
& hear his voice echo around him. 
he ruffled my hair & told me he was going to bed.
the sun peered through the curtains
gold & too bright.