dmseay

and he sat there…couldn’t stand…wobbly legs…cane was in the corner…it had stood there for a long long time…offered it to him…just shook his head…, too tired, he said…,much too tired to even try anymore…,picked-up a television remote and started flippin’ through channels…odd men selling goods…news reporters with great haircuts…a show ’bout zombies…

and he sat there…couldn’t stand…didn’t even smile anymore…pictures of a wife…children…a son in a sailor suit placed on a desk…,did’ya eat…,he asked, there’s some hoho’s in the kitchen…grab yourself a Pepsi…, he said softly…picked-up the phone…,Hello…hello…hello…, it never rang…

and he sat there…couldn’t stand…belly stuck out a bit…back was hunched…first time i noticed he was frail…weak…he was never too strong…talked a good game…but never so strong…used to talk of whippin’ boys in high school…takin’ on teams…always talkin’…always talkin’…now he was quiet…

and he sat there…couldn’t stand…he couldn’t stand…

started to write ’bout silence in early morn…nothingness of the dark…no sounds…just quiet…and then a car passed…a motorbike went-by…train whistle blew…there was no silence to write ’bout…

heard the toilet runnin’ down the hall…a man shouting at a television behind closed doors…shower turnin’ on…a woman singin’…screechin’…there was no silence to write ’bout…

and there were voices in my head…questioning…always questioning whether or not to stay afloat…continue playin’ the game…internal screamin’…yellin’…mayhem inside the soul…there was no silence to write ’bout…

and next to the typewriter sat a glass of whiskey…poured from a bottle of Paddy’s that you bought…drank of it…chased it down with water…stared into the golden liquid…thoughts of other times…

times when laughter lifted our souls…and love was made till wee hours of the morn…back when hair tossed on a pillow was kissed…and lips were wet…lips were wet…

booze went down smooth…sat and pondered what to write as rain fell…night sky black…a book of Beckett waiting to be read…purple hours…

thought occurred to me that this glass of Irish madness was being taken alone…all by myself without a soul in sight…was always told never to drink alone…by old friends…old friends…

where are they now…long passed…corpses rotting in graves…lives taken by their own hands…perhaps they were lonely too…weakend by the myriad of tears in life…troubles…toils…

not enough whiskey…not enough water…

let me explain something…

go ‘head…

if you don’t mind…

don’t mind…

had ’bout ‘nough i have…

‘nough…

i’d say…

and you make the rules do ya’…

i do…

in charge are ya’…

am…

of what…

come ‘gain…

said of what…

can’t say exactly…

can’t say…

no…but know i am…

am what…

in charge…

you think so…

do…

and who put you in charge…

don’t know really…

don’t know…

no…don’t…

well let’s begin from the beginning shall we…

yes let’s…

have you always been in charge…

have…

from the get-go…

yes…

the pistol shot and you led the pack…

right…

out in front were ya’…

yes…

givin’ orders were ya’…

yes…

and who gave you this charter…

somebody…

somebody…

somebody…

well who do you report to…

i don’t…

you don’t…

no…

just give out orders do ya’…

yes…

just words…

these are special words…

says who…

me…

and you get these special words from who…

no-one…

so you’re the man with the plan…

i’m in charge…

all complaints come to you do they…

no…

no…

no…not in charge of complaints…don’t want to hear them…

then who takes a complaint…

the complaint man…

he’ll listen…

didn’t say that…

then what’s his purpose…

he takes complaints…

to whom…

couldn’t tell ya’…

and you’re in charge…you give out orders…

i give out orders…

well i’ll be…

what…you’ll be what…

don’t know…

exactly…

we just do as we’re told…

yes…

all of us…

yes…well…except me…

of course…no-one tells you what to do…

right…

right…

i’m in charge…the sooner you get that the better you’ll be…

what if i said i didn’t want to listen to the likes of you…

can’t…

why…

just can’t…

no up-rising…

no…

couldn’t take over the job myself…

‘fraid not…

and that’s the way it is aye…

aye…tis…

what if i quit…

don’t know…

what if i just quit…

‘spose you could…

without reprecussions…

oh no…

no what…

you’d pay a price…

what kinda’ price…

a price…you’d go without…

without…

be cut-off…

cut-off…

done with…

nothing…

nothing…

placed at the bottom…

there’s plans for the likes of you…

all because…

yes…

and you’re in charge…

yes…i’m in charge…

for nine years a drop was not drunk…dry as a bone…no liquor went past lips…nothing but coffee and club soda…a sober existence…

what was accomplished in that time of clean livin’…clear head prevailed…allowed me to see everything but at the same time nothing at all…couldn’t see love …didn’t feel it…felt anger mostly radiating from you…mad ’bout this mad ’bout that…wasn’t makebelieve…just wasn’t…

felt it when ya’ left me…felt it for a short time…don’t know why but your leavin’ was a blessin’…it’s when the real writin’ began…it’s when things in life was really explored…it’s when the drinkin’ started again…

and yes…yes…the blues sat-in…booze will do that to ya’…all placed on the page…stuck-out like raw nerves…blood-coated sheets tellin’ truths…nothin’ was hidden…veins were cut…honesty bleed…it bleed…

now i stare at a bottle of Paddy…given to me by a friend…i pour it into a dirty glass that used to hold cherrry juice…just a shot will do…i drink half of it and it burns…makes my head woozy…soul’s on fire…the page stands before me…

with this drink i thee wed…
i do…i do…i do….

said she looked for me everywhere…over on 7th and 32nd…down in the Bowery…Alphabet City…parts of the Village…said she looked everywhere…i was nowhere to be found…took-off…left the scene…boarded a bus at The Port Authority and watched Gotham go-by in a darkened window as night fell and traffic crawled…

said she looked for me everywhere…over in the Bronx…’round Hunts Point…Domenican diners where rice con pollo was served for $5 a plate…in soul food shacks with a bottle of hot sauce on every table…she looked there…she looked there…

said she looked for me everywhere…asking halal vendors if they had seen me…Jews on the Upper Westside…had they seen the likes of me…old men said no while women in long dresses shook their heads…said she asked…she asked…

said she looked everywhere for me…i had left this city of the lonely…bums who walk the sidewalks…crazies muttering to themselves…boys with buns and $1,000 suits setting the pace…i left it…i left it…

and…i left her…

I feel marriage and raising kids to be the hardest things in life…neither the wife nor the child will listen…they just mock you every chance they get…don’t you agree…

I don’t have a wife or a child…had a wife…had two…

and didn’t you find them to be difficult…afterall…they are your ex-wives…must have put some kind of displeasure in your life…

can’t say…we were all quite terrible to each other…I was hurtful to them…they were hurtful to me…one said this the other said that I said nothing…who is the culprit here…

all I’m saying is that I wish my wife took the marriage as seriously as I do…to her its just one big joke….she thinks I’m a big joke…but I plug away at it dear boy because I have to…for the sake of the child I have to…

you believe that…you think that’s honest…could be the child would be much better off without this happy home…

what are you suggesting…

what do you think I’m suggesting…

don’t like the sounds of it…

of this choice…

look sir…I’ve been through the muck and the mire with this family…I deserve to be in a house…with a wife…and a child…I do not want to be alone…

rather be miserable than alone…

these are my affairs dear sir…my affairs…

yes…yes…whatever makes you happy…or…safe…safe in your own mind…don’t listen to the likes of me…what could I know…buy you a beer…

I’ve had my fill…had my fill…

I see…well…best to you and your family…cheers…

hello Manny…just got the ultimate insult…,the old man said…, you’re not gonna’ believe this…had these people come up here to my room just now and tell me I needed to take a bath…, he said…, a bath…can you believe that…, the old man strained to be heard…

dad…you probably need to take a bath…is that what the nurses are tellin’ ya’…that you need a bath…

I bathe everyday…

take a shower everyday…

take spit baths…not ’round anybody to tell the difference whether I smell or not to be honest ’bout it…, his raspy voice protested…

pop…you do need to take care of yourself…

whatdya’ mean take care of myself…

your hygiene…shower…brush your teeth…

I do all that…sometimes…

need to do it all the time dad…

you taken their side…not sticken-up for me huh…wanna see me go up to the 12th floor don’tcha…where they’ll just keep me in a bed all day long and kill me softly with pills and boredom…pills and boredom…

pop…you need to start taken better care of your nature…

sayin’ I smell…

been ’round ya’ when you smelled…yea… i have…

whose idea was it to put me in this place anyway…this nursing home…

its assisted living dad…assisted living…

you call it what you want…I know the truth…always cookin’-up some story aren’tcha…think ya know better than me…

didn’t say that dad…

well what are ya’ sayin’…you on my side or not…huh…my side or not…and be straight with me boy…you think I’m incapable of taking care of myself…do ya’…

i gotta’ go pop…

I’m askin’ you a question…

i know dad…and i’m on your side…just want what’s best for ya’…

bullshit…that’s just new fangled bullshit is what that is…you never were on my side…no-one was…just your mom…she was always on my side…

mom would probably tell you to take a bath…

gettin’ real cute boy ain’tcha…got nobody left on my side…nobody…

too hot…

tis September…

tis…

‘spose to be hot…

not really…

tis…

tis…

long for fall…

do ya’ now…

do…

you’ll complain about yard work…

will ‘spose…

will…

too hot…

September…

tis…

tis…

there was a bucket of chicken in the fridge…some mashed potatoes and brown gravy as well…didn’t bother heating it up…ate it cold in a drunken state…or was i hungover…felt drunk…still buzzed from the night which fell into early morn…a lonesome early morn…

and where were you…no-where to be found…disappered as always…hiding in the riff-raff…maybe under covers…perhaps in the arms of a lover…you weren’t with me…

i was left with remains…cold greasy bits…while you had warmth…one way or another you had warmth…what i wouldn’t have gave…what i wouldn’t have done to have had you here…right here…beside me…

oh stop your blithering and whining…isn’ t masculine in the least…sound like an old woman for Christ’s sakes…all this carrying on over what…a little warmth…eh…

it’s back to the mines for you old boy…down in the darkness…thats where you’ll find yourself in this hour…alone…in the dark…

carry-on…