Night night daddio.
He Would Have Been 93 This Week
When I look in the mirror I see my grandpa Ben sipping green tea while listening to a radio baseball game (Mets) inside an open garage. A memory of New York City is in the background. It's orange and black. Mostly traffic and yelling, but also Charlie Parker and a car thrown into the East River. The washing machine spins. On the lawn deer chew New Jersey grass. His fingernails click.
Frowny Face
One hundred and twelve times today. When cleaning dust from shelves. When opening bad news mail. When brushing my molars. When rinsing a stranger’s piss from my hands. Jaws tightened around my tongue.
I walked outside, allowed the sky to pull off my shirt, my pants, my socks. And there I stood, humbled. Like a turd.
