At the Tattoo Parlor

My son and I, off to get tattoos.
A lark.
A rite of passage.

We strip
and wrap ourselves in clean, white bath towels
from the waist down.

Joining a line
with thousands of men
and boys
trudging forward.

I wonder what to put in my tattoo.
My dog’s name?
Duke.
Good idea.
A peace sign?
That would be cool.

I lose my son in the surge.
Moment of panic.
I find him talking loudly with some other boys
and begin to worry about the price
of this skin art.

We pass through heavy metal
doors.
Sudden wailing, screaming, moaning
crash into our ears.
Ultimate human pain.

The lights go out.
I lose my son.

I want to wake up from this dream
but don’t..