lager
some liked lager
it went down like a drunken
fuck without kindness or memory
and either as easy as taking a
piss
his dad he loved lager
a cheap canned lager
it passed his lips as easily as
the word nigger
which made him scratch his head
because racism wasnt in his upbringing
and he couldnt
imagine anything that was unfortunately learned couldnt be unlearned
particularly by a smart man
and
his dad exhibited considerable smarts
it left him to surmise his grandfather
was the bigot who perhaps swore
his dad to a blood oath
to be unrelenting
it reminded him of black and
white photographs of Ku Klux Klan rallies and the young
childrens faces
captured in the flickering torch light or bonfires or bright burning crosses
Knights they called themselves
Knights who hid their identity
under floursack hoods
whose photographs reminded him
of the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz
“. . . if I only
had a brain”
L. Frank Baum might have been a
subtle genius or he had again given a
man far more
credit that he deserved
hed credited his dad all his
life
though obviously his objectivity was skewed by being too close
to the subject
love is a lousy lens to view
anything through
if he forced himself to be
dispassionate
the evidence was overwhelming
if he were serving on a jury
and instructed a guilty verdict could only be reached if he
had no reasonable
doubts
Knew the mans intention
Knew what the man was
thinking at the moment of the commission
of his crime
he could not be persuaded to
vote not guilty
the strict accountability he
learned was from his dad
you sleep in the bed you make
it was so easy
even a child could remember
1830, Sunday,
11 8. 13
