No, I’m fine, just don’t be like how I was today. The boy looked in the pool of water he’d been stepping in. He lifted his boot from the water and watched the rings form and push outwards, “No! Outward!” His father slammed the door. The boy smashed hit boot into the ringlets with no face. A space fell between them all.
Stray dog came at me today.
I didn’t want to fight,
Pulled out my knife-
saw the Pitbull.
Didn’t have much time,
as our four-year-old
was about to be dropped
off from the bus.
What the hell was this dog
doing here, on the side
of a mountain in Maine?
I want to be his friend.
But had to take out
Shouldn’t show your teeth.
And shouldn’t circle behind.
He’s fine, somewhere in the woods.
I’d like to know him on different terms.
Maybe I’ll find him tomorrow.
The rain was pounding down while I was driving back to Western, MA.
Easily a place to be considered as a non-destination within the construct
of my current mindset. I’d rather not drive in the pouring rain; to a town
I dislike to visit, to then park on the street, within feet of the very courthouse
that put me in jail twenty years ago. I’m a realist however. I was in a fist fight.
I won. He lost. He got what he deserved. I got what I deserved. End of story.
It’s simple really. I applied for an electricians helper license in the state of Maine.
One of the online questions was this, “Have you ever been convicted of anything
in any court of law.” I have. I was, and I wasn’t about to lie. Lying is the weakness
laying in the corners of every mind and only the simplest of people lean in that direction
on purpose or very often as to prove to themselves that only fake can control their outcome.
I answered, “Yes.”
Next page please. However, instead of a new set of questions,
I read a pop-up informing me that the state of Maine Electricians Board will need documentation from the court concerning the conviction. along with a letter written by
me explaining the circumstances. Oh, how I enjoyed the writing of that letter! I may have mentioned that the judge who sentenced me can be found on YouTube slapping a police officer while intoxicated in the town of Northampton, MA, and has since been removed of duty. Funny how things like that happen. Funny too, that as part of my sentence handed down by this incredible being of life, was that I was to NEVER step foot in the premises of said ‘Burger King’ again. And, funny too, that I decided to drive to this fine establishment after having visited the courthouse, documents in hand, to find that this particular Burger King has failed. The windows are boarded up and the Burger King sign is dismantled/falling down. The building is in decay. Apparently I won this one, too.
I’ve never been ashamed of my jail sentence. I believe my time there was important, and is as important to me as having put myself through college and graduating with a BA from the Isenberg School of Management, UMASS, Amherst.
My helpers license is in my wallet. Let’s see what else I can do.
I believe there is great strength in the ones who fight to not abandon. I think we all carry levels of pain. Some scars we can all easily see and help to care for and caress back to a version of functional health. Others are buried so deeply they’ll never be seen or fully understood. I find weakness in the ones that abandon. A selfishness that destroys itself in final completeness.
We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
His finger landed on my nose. He was large. I didn’t like his finger on my nose. He asked if I’d like to go out back. He was my boss. I said yes. We walked. I watched the long legged fuck of a man march. The double doors swung open and we faced each other.
‘Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again.’ the large man said.
‘Stop pointing your finger in my face.’
The large man again pointed his finger in my face. I swung hard and connected with this throat. He tumbled backward. I grabbed his right shoulder and connected under his left eye. The large man was sat on his ass. Rage, and fuck him, filled my chest and I swung wildly now. It was already over. The large man was a pussy and was covering. I felt others pulling on my shoulder. I didn’t care. I swung and connected under his cover, and and fuck his cover, and fuck his everything. If he hadn’t pushed his finger in my nose and shamed me he wouldn’t be sitting on his ass like a pussy.
I was told to go home. I pulled a bottle from my inner pocket and took a pull. It was dark and the sidewalk was more friendly than where I had been.
copyright 2016 -M. Taggart
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