Mutually Assured Destruction
for Andre
Our adults were weary prophets with mouths
made of Bibles & gin. Mothers in green
kitchens learning to bake casseroles. Fathers
in the driveway: coming or going: Johnny
Cash or Johnny Rotten on the radio.
Saturday morning shoeshine. Saturday night
horror. My brother the saddest person
in the room when Godzilla burned Tokyo
down. Easter Sunday resurrection: our
familiar giant rising from a pile of lesser men.
His good hands as gentle as a reed: his good
hands like a basket cradling eggs: pastel
green: dewdrop yellow. Monday morning bus
stop with packs of belt-whipped boys. Sandwich
on the sidewalk. Winter coat beneath their feet:
milk in the gutter. There’s a runaway
truck in this story. Gravel-spit. Wild-toothed.
Building snow men with butterscotch eyes.
My knees bloody from yesterday’s brawl.
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