BLOG: God help me survive with boys
John, and Emmett born a minute later,
My father’s name with an extra T
That he always wanted
Like Emmett Dalton of the Dalton boys,
Desperadoes who lived onto B movie acceptance
This grandson Emmett – Granddad long gone –
Had a mom who knew I had
a thing about cops
and could sense when I was in town,
And would send the police after me
As I threw a rocking chair on their porch
even, Jesus! at Christmas!
And as their granddad would say with a sigh
“puchee! where’s this shit going!”
But you know she was right
it was king of a Trojan Horse thing to do
And how did that cop directing traffic know
to call my name?
I hope he made it to the chief of police
in some little jerky Jersey town.
Why even when they were only two
the court let me visit
under armed guard
But even then I knew it would only take a twenty
to get the rent-a-cop to at least
keep his piece out of sight
puchee!
So of course later when persistence had paid off
and they partially came under my jurisdiction
the largest of the two, born at two pounds
broke down when I couldn’t keep a marriage together
poor kid, he had counted on constancy from me
puchee!
After an early childhood of incarceration
in facilities mandated by courts back there,
for kids who played with knives.
To him there were no reins
for the runaway horse,
it was drugs and cops with drawn guns
at our house, even in spring blizzards
So he got it that his peers
when juiced would do
nonetheless I was top hand at hobo stew
And tho I was on the road
like Joe keeping his ship afoat
but I all-nighted it back up the mountain
to just fucking be there.
And my taste in action flicks was only marginally better then theirs
nonetheless John’s psyche
squatted in a closet with dirty socks and pot
and gave birth to nightmares of loss
where was I for every one of his stupid questions?
that only a dad’s surety could answer
Even as I had eight others
perhaps off the trail
Like lost yearlings in a ravine to think about.
His brother whom I could hold
even in the palm of my hand
as the surgeon in the premature infant ward
inserted a spinal tap
half as long as his body
And with a little crib-side voodoo
I seemed to cool the heart rate
to perhaps of a similarly sized rodent
enough to win the approval
of the ladies volunteering their laps as comfort zones
However, when the littlest twin
with a birth weight same as a big mac when born
puchee!
Came to be in the care of what CPS might call
irresponsible parentage,
he was still so skinny
that I could pick him up with one hand
Even as he, like some
born again mongrel Mongol warrior
resisting being in the care of court orders
he needed to be near his beloved mom
She was his mom
and like Genghis Khan
he would sustain that connection,
even if it meant escaping and
sleeping in a nearby street.
Better than a ravine
I suppose I said to myself
Time passed and the give and take
of things
–and of course new lawyers–
came into play.
But it didn’t take care of what to do
with wild young things
who hadn’t the early years
with me to be saddle broke
tho even when defiant
still desperate for a hug
Even as they longed for the day
they-in the singular of course-
could land a beautiful, killing blow.
This will for a potential geezer
inspire you to fucking train your ass off
forget geezer-hood
puchee!
Any minute might be your last
and search for a Grimm’s fairy tale
not quite so grim
However and this is huge
If you survive to become and actual geezer
they will begin to respect you
maybe even love you
As they ricochet between
being in wonder
that you’re still there
to the anticipation of the day
they have you in the
rear-naked choke
or an arm-bar ready to break or arteries head locked
to closure, even to brain damage
maybe that would shut my fucking
cop mouth
Even as they weep at my funeral
perhaps they will say
“Even when you kicked me out of the house
you asshole! you were probably right”
maybe they will say
“You were a bad ass when needed”
“Even when, you asshole
you wouldn’t make bail,
but gave strength and love when needed most”
“Even as, you asshole
you fucking crawl -though persistently –
to the fucking finish line”
puchee!
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