Essie's Famous O Rings
|
|
Tom—I give him a name—he wore his pants
in the surf at Mission Bay after the war, fished off the pier, took a bus to Dayton, hitched to Pittsburgh, washed coal barges with dirty river water, died & the neighbors sold his clothes, bought ice cream at Klavon’s, threw back shots. Their kids left Polish Hill, drank Iron City from Pilsner glasses unlike Tom, who was dead & Maddie found his dungarees at Eons on Ellsworth, pants heavy enough to stand up on their own, nights when it’s windy by the Allegheny & some kid will find your t-shirt that says Essie’s Famous O, stained ochre like mustard from a leaking jejunum tube & maybe he’ll imagine grad school nights gorging on O fries, pitchers & shots & exhausted half-sex in the hall, your life shining, & still all up ahead. CLOCKHOUSE Volume Thirteen
|