father, can you hear me?

ishmael of the wilderness
parched, getting light-headed in the desert of paran
mouth foamy at the edges
something about City of Hyattsville Earth Day Celebration on his t-shirt
or a Mr. Bubble iron-on decal
whatever

father, can you hear me?
i submitted my resignation letter this afternoon
with shaky hands
and freshly shat pantaloons
boss came into my office after hearing the news
closed the door
and saw through my soul
deep into the tiny stacks of money being tossed in my mind

they say i've been gone too long
drinking Carlos Rossi with misfits
and jamming out with janitors after dark
but i say i've just arrived
shamefully inebriated at your favorite bar
sweaty brow
wondering what direction i'd tumble in if i rose to use the restroom

someone's recycle bin blew over in my neighborhood

there's trash everywhere: plastic Deer Park bottles, empty containers of fabric softener, partially crushed cans of Diet Coke, etc.

everyday while walking my dog, i observe how the wind shifts the items further from the sidewalk into the grass.  

and everyday, i think to myself, man, someone should clean this shit up.

asshole!

who walks down M St. smoking a cigar during business hours? a boat shoe-wearing, mop-haired fucker, that's who.

i caught several blasts of the pungent smoke, each only seconds apart and thicker than its predecessor.

now i know how annoyed my neighbors must have felt when i used to practice playing my trombone outside.

as told to Milton Quinn Whitehall II

milton talked to jessica's belly when he was there.  she laying, he sitting feet away, he touched with nervous fingers and spoke with an even more nervous voice.  

"he gonna get my name, right?"

jessica always rolled her eyes.

"yes, milton."

and when milton left as quickly as he came, same overcoat insulating from the world's elements, jessica locked the door and waddled back to groove in her bed.

"i'm not afraid to touch you," she'd say.  "you are real and precious.  you are my little snowpea."

when Milton Quinn Whitehall II entered the world on march 17, 2003, jessica held him close and spoke:

Milton Quinn Whitehall II, you are here.

we are here.

we have survived harsh summer months

and brutal winter months

i promise to protect and teach you

my little snowpea, 

i love you with all of my heart.

it will be very embarrassing

when your dog goes to shit

and finds the deepest, thickest patch of grass her little nose can detect

which will leave you grimacing

trying to pick through said grass

with a poop scooper.

and minutes later

when you've picked up said shit

as well as blades of grass, leaves, and a twig

the mess of excrement and nature

will look oddly like a lamb-based greek dish.

i bet i never told you about the one time . . .

when i very publicly embarrassed myself in front of half of Holy Family School.

my friend bryce's grandparents used to watch us in the morning before school. my mom would drop me off on her way to work and we'd get into shit in his grandparents' living room until it was time to pile into his grandfather's cadillac and head up the road.

bryce would always get in trouble, too. once, his grandfather found a squeeze bottle of grape jelly under his bed that had been sitting there for weeks. his grandfather asked him why he had it under the bed and bryce said he was putting it on crackers one day and left it under there by mistake.

i listened to the whole exchange from down the hall. suddenly, i heard a *thwack* and bryce came dancing down the hall, holding his left ass cheek.

anyway, one day, we were going back to school after a few snow days. bryce's grandfather pulled up alongside a mound of snow, and bryce hopped out, darting towards the parking lot. i slid across the bouncy leather seat, saying, "wait for me, bryce!" but he was gone.

i think i made it about 20 feet from the crowd when i felt my legs go from under me. the next thing i know, i'm sliding on my back, bookbag propping up my head, looking at the sky. i came to a rest at everyone's feet and was immediately greeted with an outbust of laughter. it felt like some shit out of a children's book. you know, the kind with the kid fighting off a cloud of misfortune all day.

i was so embarrassed. i gathered myself and stood up like nothing happened. i don't even know where bryce was, the fucker. i got laughed at for 2 more days until the incident became old news.

i ended up blaming my mom because she wouldn't buy me a pair of British Knights to go along with my uniform. they were the "it" shoes back then, but i was stuck with a pair of Giovanni Prancers.

(they weren't really called "Prancers", but, you know, i can't reasonably say anything positive about thoe shoes.)

"Fell out twice in the basement."