I never saw my father throw a baseball
he was no jogger
he was working the cash register at my godfather’s curb store
when in saunters this guy
in a tie-dye ski mask
pointing a pistol though not impolitely
demanding cash
was this after your dad smoked-out with Audrey
of the feather boas bad sonnets Quaaludes
from the fourplex across the hall
was he “nervous”
he didn’t like pot for that very reason
instead of squeezing
the trigger on this huge .357 resting on a mount just under the counter
and blowing the robber into an eternity of Funyuns
my father leans over this large jar of pickled pigs’ feet
and with one left hook
knocks the poor dude out
did he levitate
who
your dad
not that time but how embarrassing
it must have been for that man
trying to rob my godfather’s store
lying on the cement floor on the other side
of his own gun
least favorite people
the cops
before they hauled the guy off in a squad car
my father shook his cuffed hand
wished him luck
a guy whose ass you kick might end up your best friend
he always said to me
never humiliate
another man
you thought your father was special
demigod sorcerer
more than any regular
golden gloves
candidate for
electroshock
he laid so many bricks by the eighth grade—
which is when he dropped out—
he woke one morning to discover
he’d worn the fingerprints
off his fingers
his hands like poisonous unidentifiable butterflies
which might explain the subsequent
albeit brief life
of crime
his ability to transform into fish or sparrow
his love of watching people
walk in and out
houses
they were trying to sell some Rolex watches
you mean Folex watches
and how does it feel to be the son of Moses
let me guess he had
a huge
IQ 165 according to the Air Force
but he was more Odysseus
as the rag wearing singer
the world his home that couldn’t quite place him
but let him hang around just for the hell of it
all the wine swindlers
picking pork from their teeth with a king’s daggers
having slain the last cattle of the sun
anyone can tell you he was
inexplicably charming
especially wearing
a beggar’s skin
his old friends called him Kingfish
in the matter of the jewelry
upon which he rowed
the great johnboat
of enterprise
always fight the badass first
to work that job you had to tighten the nut
you had to meet Johnny Zesso
he’d give you a Rolex
tell you to take it to every pawn shop in Jackson
and let him know if anyone said it was fake
so Dad took it around
came back and reported ten pawnshops said it was real
two said fake
then Johnny said you didn’t go to all the pawn shops
and he took my father downtown
and between two tall buildings
at the end of this long alley barely wide enough to pass through
without turning sideways
alley my dad said he never knew existed
there was this small OPEN sign
on a locked door
and past that
a hallway maybe thirty yards long at the end of which sat
an old Jewish man on a stool in a beautiful white suit
with these huge eyeglasses that made
his eyes blink in slow motion
he said the watch was fake
he knew
because he made it
here’s ten more now go
where did your father come into contact
with this semicircle of counterfeiters criminals bandits
architectural secrets
in plain view
his mother’s people were from Beirut
that says it all
when I was four swinging my legs
from the counter of the curb store where my godfather let me sit
elbow deep in a wide-mouth jar
of these oatmeal cookies big as classroom wall clocks
my dad picked me up
and as I was bootless in my cowboy pajamas
he carried me out
to this green Cadillac
where stood my godfather
along with Uncle R they popped the trunk
and what might have been an electric guitar
inside red velvet was in fact
a Fyodorov-Ivanov Model 1924 twin barrel
tank mount (optional) machine gun
fresh from the USSR
USS argh
what are you now
apologist for la petite mob
fleet greyhounds of your memory
matched only
by the over-groomed and useless
poodles of Lethe
saw Uncle R
after that
but when my father died he called
no idea how he found my number but not for a life-
time’s supply of Brylcreem
would that sweet old tater eater
have given me
his address
how bad did it get
my daughter had a fresh dirty diaper
Dad out-ran the hurricane moved in to my spare room
but his cancer returned
it was new years day 2007 and Dad wanted the bank
to give him all his money back
he’s moving to the country to live with some kids
unlike me they’re great
I ask if he’s met them “no” he says
I ask if they even exist “no”
this is my cue that he’s off his meds trending psychotic
and that whatever he says
should not upset me
he says so many things
all of which upset me soon I’m screaming you’ve been nothing
but a drain since I was six
regretting it even as I said it
he did not raise his hand
he smiled what you might call the “you’re my only son” smile
as if proud of me
from a lifelong
habit of lies
what have you learned from this
never go outside without a shirt unless you’re boxing or at a swimming pool
don’t spit on concrete
you might drink Old Milwaukee or whiskey straight up
the stranger is my guest
the janitor my wisdom
treat every wandering singer in a puke-stained foreigner’s drug-rug
like the Angel Gabriel
what have you learned
even when he was bat-shit crazy we both liked to err
on the side of sarcasm
but I loved him
can you pay the fine
if you can’t pay the fine you’ll have to stay here forever
and you’re not even dead yet
I will pay the fine and exit your fine land
it really is marvelous
now will you grant him passage
it was all my fault
and we’d already
gained a new take on life together
I was clocked at 102 miles per hour
when the state trooper sped toward us like a giant pissed off magnet
on the way to Gainesville for Dad’s seventh
round of chemo
I explained to the officer
his urgent need
Dad played it up rocked back and forth groaned with pain
blew phlegm through his
voice prosthesis throat-hole but the cop kept writing the ticket long as the state of Florida
so finally Dad raised his arm poked out his pointer finger
and moved it in tiny circles
while his other hand
fell across his eyes
Dad dubbed this move “The Dance of Lady Justice”
which I then repeated to the cop so that he could actually understand it
and the cop he couldn’t get enough
he was clutching his stomach
laughing so hard the eagle insignia from his lapel
flew off toward the west
smirking its eagle head off
clutching a goose
in its talons
plucked from the household gods