Patrol was painful tonight.
I could
barely speak of it to my wife.
I needed her arms---to banish the
demons
to
vanish the visions before…become dreams.
He was in the thick of the busy
street.
Staggering, singing at the top of
his lungs
savoring, bellowing, his own
“saucy” sound.
in the
husky voice of a practiced lush.
People turned around and stopped,
riveted viewing
the raucous display.
I tried to take him peacefully,
cautiously,
quietly
no
need to make a mess of things.
I tried to
take him without force,
without
brutality
but WHAM
he struck me and ran,
bruising
more than my pride
making
spectacle all the more a marvel
selfish
riot to behold.
My partner
got him from behind,
grabbed
him tight by neck and shoulder
took
him roughly to the ground.
He was still singing---
and
the crowd still laughing.
…I
didn’t laugh.
I thought of his wife, who would
wait in vain.
and thought
of other drunks in town.
with
ice upon my swollen eye.
I thought
of all the other sots
of
pubs and bars
football
games
and
office parties.
I thought of them… coming home tonight.
jumpstart
the cycle
of
frightened young children
fake
explanations for empty wallets
screaming
crying
hitting
fighting
and
children conceived
of
drunken embraces.
It wounds me
---all of it. . . .
but I can’t just forget.
The laughter that struck me,
that grotesque clown in the midst
of the street
he
doesn't stop singing
(his
humiliated wife)
he
doesn't stop laughing
(his
kids scared to cry.)
Jesus
Christ.
I need my wife.
I need to lie tired and still with
her beside me.
I need her in silence to understand
and
give her assent with arm around me.
.
I need my wife.
Patrol was painful tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment