COFFEE WITH DAD’S GHOST, Jessica Amanda SalmonsonMy dad came to see me last night in a dream. I was sitting in a coffeehouse reading a University Press monograph on Japanese silent movies, lightly penciling notes in the margins of the hefty tome. I was thinking, “This has got to be a dream. But don’t I actually own this book? I wonder where I put it.”
At first I didn’t recognize him as who expects to see their dad so many years after he’s dead. And he was so much younger than when last we hung out. His hair was slicked back and he looked like a member of the Sharks or the Jets.
He had a cigarette between two fingers, unlit, as there’s no smoking indoors; I bet that surprised him. Coffee without a cigarette. The rest of the pack was rolled up in a shirt sleeve, partly I suspect to show so
