what it feels like to find my confirmation name in a poem about exile from Chile

my father sounds like an old man on the phone;

I know this because I use to listen up to him, 

and now I listen down. I can picture him at

a community meeting and the women in their

forties thinking that his wisdom is endearing

like that of a grandfather, which he also is.

i was going to do my own laundry today, but 

I think ultimately, that i'll have it sent out.