colette

Back from excursions into the deep deep south
drove miles and miles to a swamp town in Mississippi
teeth throbbing in pain
heart throbbing again
eyes trying not to break
the baby trevor's kidney died
and he pees blood
someone new has blood clots
7 inches long
dad crumbles on his walker
and I smile and shrug as
the boy's father hands me oxycotons
and we smoke a joint,
his parents and I
in a double wide in Mississippi
there were four pitbulls and two poodles knocking us over in the house and lots of love
and quiet contemplation
and a mothers homemade victuals
Thanksgiving indeed
they have no money at all
and i worry
i feel guilty
and happy to know his parents
dad steals the whiskey we snuck in our suitcase
he's an alcoholic
a vietnam vet
a wonderful craftsman
father and son are making a
chess set by hand with heaven vs hell pieces
it is beautiful
and beautiful to watch them
heads together, silent, working
ma and I sit and extoll the virtues of Fannie Farmer
a cookbook author from 1896, we both have fucked up our copies of her cookbook beyond recognition
so I vow to get us new ones for x-mas
i didn't want to leave
the simple quiet peace
the stars in the sky, the dogs fighting and
nestling adn the talk
his parents insisted we watch three things ontv
the paul mcartney concert
the muppets christmas
and the U2 concert
they rock
in a world so very different from ours
I am thankful for them
and their love
and for the life that keeps oozing forth from my quietly distentegrating family