OLD MAN — 1971
I wonder what it would be like
if this house was like it was in
that picture I took of it
in 1920 crisp and new
if things were still like that
the city was no more than a
sleeping dream phantom
then.
The streets so quiet and subdued
and routine was a beauty, an adventure
in itself
not just another nail in
yer goddamn coffin.
I lay back on the bed and stare at
the walls and ceiling around me,
walls and ceiling withered and tired
from age and neglect… and routine
like me.
I am tired.
I close my eyes
no! not ready to die yet
maybe tomorrow
but not just now
I have found something to dream of again.
I will put off my death
for another day.
I’m sure nobody will mind. Just one more day…
now I will
dream, and I will forget about that
old man lying on my bed like a fucking corpse.
He doesn’t matter now…
I am a boy. Thirteen years old in October. I live here with my mom and pop and my brother and sister too. They’re both eleven, twins, they are. Mom and Pop are okay except when Pop comes home drunk boy, the old man sure can tie one on. And then, boy howdy look out! John- that’s my little brother- he’s a pretty good sport… sometimes. Sis is okay too I guess. you know how it is with little sisters. It’s real early in the morning now. Probably wont be light for another hour. I been layin’ awake here waiting an waiting and it’s been so quiet I could hear a cat runnin a mile away. Now I hear something coming from way off down the street and I’m listenin for a long time until it’s right up next to the back door. It’s just the milkman but I know it won’t be long now till Jimmy gets here. Jimmy’s my best friend. He’ll come over soon and I’ll sneak out the window and I won’t have to get back for breakfast till nine cause it’s Sunday morning and then go to church at ten. That’s alot of time. The milkman’s finished with the bottles and I can hear him driving away now down the street. Now something’s moving through the bushes outside my window real slow and quiet but I can hear it anyway cause I been waiting. Jimmy. I’m out of bed now moving as fast as I can but real quiet so nobody will hear me. By the time I hear a tap at the window, I’ll have my trousers on and be tying up my sneakers…
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 1971, 2009.
“The streets so quiet and subdued
and routine was a beauty, an adventure
in itself
not just another nail in
yer goddamn coffin.”
–nice one.