My father took
the Barry Manilow
records; my mother
took me.
I was his first son,
yet he, I believe,
never once
made me cry.
-
-
sunrise is my favorite when
Creation stir-steps
atop wavetips to sink
its toes in sand before we
bound from slumber
take eagerful brokeful leaps
into the world
we cannot know -
I don’t trust men
who don’t wear socks. Could
it be the hint of villainy
or my envy at not being
able to pull it off? Or
because the shamefill, shattered
part of me that so profusely
sweats through missteps and debts,
bedclothes and socks, wonders
where, exactly, they hide
their guilt? -
Columbia House introduced me to Gerald Levert
in 1991, before methamphetamines replaced cassettetapes as the drug of choice for nice, Iowa boys.
I couldn’t say no to the nice lady on the phone,and to this day freeze in the face of the entire
service industry. Servers, cashiers, mechanics allwant to know where I want to do and suddenly I’m
that fox we passed on I-75 caught in a rictusof terrified indecision, knowing that things have
drastically changed, things are bigger, things arefaster, and I do not understand except that they
expect an answer, a crossing, at their convenience. -
The door isalready terriblyheavy,its PUSHbe-liesits PULL,intentionally poorlydesignedso that the effortequals my give andI have none tospare you,rushing toward theclosing gap,oranges tumbling fromyour bag.