BOY TAIL, pt. 11

11.

          red belongs on whore curtains

         

“DO NOT SPILL ANYTHING ON THE COUCH!”

Boy was warned,

by Mother.

After school,

Boy walks two miles home,

a safety of avoidance,

spinning Reebok tracks like Charlotte’s web,

suburbia’s winding back roads snake,

cul de sacs of paper dolls,

ranchers made of

proverbs and glass

                                  gray    ecru

                                  beige   sand

                                  occasionally, umber

SYMBOLS FOR SALE!

by Tammi and Ted and Savannah and Steven and Bobbi and Bobby Polish surnames

2:58              BOY HOME ALONE

2:59              CLICK ON TV

3:00              MAKE PEANUT BUTTER & JELLY ON MAIER’S ITALIAN BREAD

3:03-3:55     WATCH GENERAL HOSPITAL

3:55-4:00     STARE OUT THE WINDOW

4:00-4:50     OPRAH!

4:50              MOTHER ENTERS

4:51              MOTHER CRIES

4:53              MOTHER ON TOILET

4:56              MOTHER NOT ON TOILET

4:55              MOTHER FEEDS A BLIND CAT

4:57              MOTHER CRIES

4:59              MOTHER MAKES EARL GREY

5:00              MOTHER STARES AT THE WALL, SIPPING TEA

Mother grips,

claws at the order of things,

a mysterious play book,

shifting ideologies,

that only she knew.

In 1983,

mother made a bed for father

on the downstairs couch.

In 1993,

he remained.

Mother made it a mission,

to control what she could,

the keeping of objects,

at store-bought newness

well past their relevancy.

Mother keeps things,

Tupperware full of receipts.

Instead they remain,

as ungiven gifts

on basement shelves.

Mother soldiered with friends Windex and Bounty.

After dinner,

boy in his room,

lined with wallpaper,

toy trucks, trains and sports.

Boy wonders if his parents know him at all.

Under the bed,

Boy kept a notebook,

of big time Broadway!

That’s where,

he etched his name,

prominently above,

the show’s title.

In dreaming,

Boy played Grizabella,

wrapped in grandmother’s furs,

moping and

weeping and

belting

high notes to pussycats.

See Boy on the balcony,

the Casa de Rosado?

Dislocating his arms,

towards the shirtless,

and racially miscast,

chorus boys below.

Deep in the intestines,

of the Paris Opera House,

on a boat commandeered,

by a songstress half-masc,

Boy discovers the brutality,

of eight shows a week.

*****

BOY TAIL: a fable is available on Amazon.com 

https://www.amazon.com/Boy-Tail-fable-John-Moletress/dp/1974170861/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1506870223&sr=8-1&keywords=moletress