... Richard Brooks
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Mother Slapped Me At eight, I took a dollar from my mother's wallet. Red leatherette with pictures of the dog, my dad, the twins (both girls), and I was missing. That was the year I had the scarlatina when the picture man came to school. Never got a snapshot of myself all crooked-toothed in front, the runt of the litter. The day I stole the dollar, I believed I deserved a bit of something sweet I mean, she could have kept the picture from second grade when I was gap-toothed, uglier, still at least included. So I treated myself when the ring of the ice cream truck came rolling up the street, but mother slapped me. Ice cream tastes like broken tooth right to this day, and if anyone ever says that scarlatina won't do damage to the heart never saw that cheap old Woolworth wallet when hankering for a thing to replace the thing that should have been, but wasn't. Show Me You always turn away as though to apologize when slipping off your things but every rolling bump and curve is magic simply magic mi amor, and no victoria's secret is as good as yours- I'm hard to please. Queer Perceptions Running around the track I had a feeling I was being watched and sure enough when I looked left, there was a retired marine I'd seen a few times before. How I knew he was a marine- well, I guess the graying crewcut and the way his lats were huge from pumping iron gave him away. He had an old Ford pickup, primer on the doors and on his bumper was a faded, peeling sticker said Semper Fi. Aside from that, the guy looked mean. He was pulled off at a picnic table, newspaper spread in front of him doing pushups off the table edge and watching me. As I passed him bastard stopped, straightened up hiked his shorts and turned his back, giving me a view of two white cheeks. Made me angry that the jarhead thought I'd be interested until I got to thinking I was the one looked first. You gotta be careful, even if they are the picture of hard-assed male the way you study folks, so now I'm looking closer in the mirror finding I'm so much more appealing. Middle age and loneliness do strange things to the mind: his/mine. I may just buy a bulldog. Name him Spike. Main Page
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