a prose poem from april 2006

Aye aye sir I used to say to my daddy when I was a very little boy only three or four and I adored him putting his sailor cap on my head aye-aye sir before I grew up and realized what a broken-hearted secret drunk he was, my own rocket scientist who screwed me into existence in love with my mommy, what a frustrated artist who never embraced that terrible name of ARTIST yes who had sailed the south seas in war saved a man’s life became a decorated hero had his portrait painted and sold for a million dollars published on the magazine cover settled down to testing other people’s rocket work missiles to carry men into space and nuclear bombs onto distant targets instead of building his own sculpture from high-pressure hoses and stainless steel tubes no and drinking every night to forget until not even his own son would follow in his footsteps no I loved him desperately even when he broke my nose that drunken night and told me to suck him in the insanity of delirium tremens promptly forgot when he’d said turned away and pissed all over himself I could only pour whiskey on his ashes dropped at six mile bank we have no grave, others complained, my ownly hero soldier secret scholar father brother uncle cousin son lover husband friend Man come back in my dreams the other night struggling in a wheelchair to make his last appointment with the doctors who will torture him in hell forever I bend down Daddy Daddy it’s me oh yes he smiles, his body wasting away until he is only a face on the floor I pick up and carry under my arm toward the appointment nurse oh no no no I’ll never let them radiation chemotherapy me never never no no no not none never nope not no

 

 

http://tijuanagringo.com/diary/d60421a.htm

 

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