those who played on it called it
a riverboat they called themselves riverboat
gamblers
of that there was no doubt
but
the riverboat on the Mississippi River off Dubuque Iowa was tethered fast
she bobbed washed back and forth its gangplank rolled between
the slack and tautness of its tied hempropes
she wasnt going anywhere
that was the extent of her being a riverboat
his parents really dug her though
they werent the usual kind of misfits who
from 44 states played pissed away money at Powerball or Lotto Scratchers
NO they preferred to take the house-odds on slot
machines
push-button slots not one-arm bandits known to bitch-slap
players hold them upside-down by an ankle and shake em for the loose-change in
their pockets their billfolds and purses
his father said he wasnt
interested in exerting himself
he was there for his pleasure for its refreshing liberation(apparently then
he was all about being liberal) for his mans drinks and cigarettes(an possibly
for a pert top-heavy barmaid tilted forward ostensibly by the weight of her
tray the drinks she curried and her yawning tip jar placed luridly near her
powdered and perfumed cleavage)
his folks took a bus that left
early morning from Illinois rolled north
into Wisconsin before dropping south and
working its way west
thermoses of coffee fruit granola
bars they watched the pastoral Midwestern landscape roll by out their windows chitchatted
read and two and a half hours later were on the flat well-maintained blacktop
before the pier eyes bugged anxious to be disgorged
the wind the one time he went came
up off the river smelling of fish and petroleum
which held the upperhand he was
told varied from day to day
that day FISH
but he enjoyed riverfish
freshwater fish
the
landlocked Midwest gave them that and he relished it
the Midwest built them so they didnt care for either US coast or oceanfish lobster
oysters saltwater they only got near saltwater to gargle away the
bile and bitterness to cleanse their tongues after vomiting whether it was induced
by illness or their
relish for too much alcohol
Wha-whas the difference his father mumbled more than once be-between a halfway decent lookin woman
ana-ana a fox
he humoured him every time after
the first time he asked What dad
Two Two stiff drinks
mebbe he might hear that on the
East Coast
not the West Coast
the only time his dad ever left
the Midwest was for military service stateside during the Korean War
he beat it back home at the end of his stint and
stayed put ever since
though truthfully
eleven kids then will do that to a man
his mom was also born and bred
and birthed him at 19
honestly theres
no telling what eleven kids did to any man or woman
thats a leash and muzzle pulled
mighty tight
so if in their sunset years twilight years which he eagerly challenged them during if they wanted to lock up the empty house and
ride a bus to gamble who the fuck was he to tell them any different
he certainly didnt allow them to
tell him different once he set out on his own
which isnt to say they didnt always
have plenty to tell him
he just didnt pay them any mind
hed paid them mind when he lived
under their roof begrudgingly
though
that deliberation had been a matter of respect a mutual exchange between child
and parents that frayed year
by year that did and should have frayed according to his nearing manhood
by year that did and should have frayed according to his nearing manhood
during those days it was a good thing saltwater was nearby to
gargle with helping alleviate probably
their mutual bitterness
being ones child wasnt being ones
indentured what-have-you anymore than being ones parent wasnt being ones lackey
pushover or also what-have-you
so going out the front door . .
.
turning their bent
backs on the haunting stares the sheaves and leaves of photographs framed portraitures
hung on walls others stuffed in albums tilted on crowded extraneous étagères sofa tables squatting
before windows end tables atop bureaus and dressers and chests
going out
the door . . .
leaving history in
their wake for it to keep itself Shit they didnt have to water or feed it are
you kiddin who the hell thought they had any right or anything to say . . . anything(after
all that was a right they retained stubbornly
asinine)(this is where one laughs)
(one of these days while theyre
gone Im gonna hang Chinese lanterns at their front door stoop marl it with their
slow molten colors bleeding surreal)
to his father Whas the name of this place
Dont you dare said his mother
Your mother doesnt want me to
dare
Doesnt want you to dare what
Sweetheart
Dont you dare
Yer killin me dad Dont dare what
Dont you
dare
That sounds like a threat dad
You dont think your mothersever
threatened me over our fifty years of marriage
Well in your fifty years of marriage Ive
threatened many people Probably more
than I can count
See sweetheart evidently makin threats are a family trait
The name of this place is . . .
Please dont
Comon hell get a kick out of it remind him of when he was a boy He was always pretty swift to it though probably
out of practise now been a long time a long time
Comon hell get a kick out of it remind him of when he was a boy He was always pretty swift to it though probably
out of practise now been a long time a long time
Whas the name of the place
Sapphire in his best Negro utterance
Sapphire in his best Negro utterance
It is not . . .
. . . No shit Amos n Andy
Rinso Blue
I toldya mother The boy remembers hes on it like stink on . . .
. . . dont you dare You only get one
I toldya mother The boy remembers hes on it like stink on . . .
. . . dont you dare You only get one
Sapphire
in a word his father ginned up
all sorts of childhood memories painted a spreading smile on his face like a
yellow pat of butter melting on a fresh slice of wheat toast or under a
sprinkled of brown sugar on top his steel-cut oats
he was chasing fireflies in the night
against the black collars and silhouettes of peony bushes and hedges playing naked
with leopard frogs in the porcelain clawed-foot bathtub laying under a sheet of
warm sun-sparkled lakewater it lapping at his chin as he watched his toes rise
and fall between the wiggles of water tickled by a coy summer breeze
Sapphire
suggested his dad as a bad
influence(as his mom feared)(tho hed only seen affluence go sideway)
his dad was the reason why he
took his coffee black why he took a tablespoon full of cod liver oil every
morning didnt mind raw eggs in a pinch for breakfast why he preferred shots and
beer to cocktails why the main reason he was a freethinker to following a party
or group or clique clickclickclick he wasnt a dancer though his dad was or used
careless uncanny humour to infuriate reason because things had grown too
serious and dark and participants surly or wont to violence
him being off-the-wall
thinking-outside-the-box was definitely encouraged by his dad
his mom was rarely
irresponsible
or thats how she framed it to
malign them to offset their belligerence Irresponsible that was her
reproach of them both
and while his father would back
off allow her deference he quickly tendered(beyond a withering look
at his father which said you-have-to-live-and-sleep-with-her I–dont) that it
was unlikely anyone could provide for a household of thirteen and be
irresponsible so perhaps you mean
something else
she took up her look
never said a word in reply
as if her look said meant something
her look remained lost on him most
of his life
particularly beyond the time when
he recognised his life was his to please
himself and not perform for others or seek their acknowledgments his recognition was the only thing worthwhile nobody could
possibly be harder on him than himself
not a fuckin soul
not a fuckin soul
0220, Thursday,
28 1. 16
1522, Saturday, 30 1. 16
1522, Saturday, 30 1. 16
