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Jason Kelly Richards |
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SPRING CLEANING IN MID-JULY I bag the empty beer bottles And gather crumpled wads of frustration Spewed from a computer under the influence Attack a heap of newspapers Magazines and unopened mail Salvage important stuff Like Playboy and the cable guide Toss everything else into a pile Place her memory on top And push it all out the door Making certain there are no visible tracks Scarring my fresh scrubbed self-esteem I am New & Improved All-Purpose-Pain-Resistant And ready to tackle the toughest task Like a blind date Or cleaning the bathroom. MY FATHER'S SON She'd force a smile when he came home in that condition, the smile turned into a frown, the frown into words, and the words hit so hard, I'd back up a step. He'd laugh and cuss, bounce off the walls sing Johnny Cash songs until all was quiet, except for a snore at the end of the hall. I tried to be invisible because as soon as our eyes would meet she'd mumble to herself, and order me, "GO TO BED." I didn't understand why I was being punished, or why the only thing that made him happy made her mad. No one explained that to me. I had to learn by myself, and it took years, money, lost jobs, wrecked cars, and words thrown so far in anger I could never get them back. Tonight when I go home in that condition and try to be invisible she won't smile, I'll laugh and cuss, bounce off the walls and sing until she orders my son, "GO TO BED." |