Japanese Wife
O lord, he said, Japanese women,
real women, they have not forgotten,
bowing and smiling
closing the wounds men have made;
but American women will kill you like they
tear a lampshade,
American women care less than a dime,
they’ve gotten derailed,
they’re too nervous to make good:
always scowling, belly-aching,
disillusioned, overwrought;
but oh lord, say, the Japanese women:
there was this one,
I came home and the door was locked
and when I broke in she broke out the bread knife
and chased me under the bed
and her sister came
and they kept me under that bed for two days,
and when I came out, at last,
she didn’t mention attorneys,
just said, you will never wrong me again,
and I didn’t; but she died on me,
and dying, said, you can wrong me now,
and I did,
but you know, I felt worse then
than when she was living;
there was no voice, no knife,
nothing but little Japanese prints on the wall,
all those tiny people sitting by red rivers
with flying green birds,
and I took them down and put them face down
in a drawer with my shirts,
and it was the first time I realized
that she was dead, even though I buried her;
and some day I’ll take them all out again,
all the tan-faced little people
sitting happily by their bridges and huts
and mountains—
but not right now,
not just yet.
the waste of words
continues with a stunning
persistence
as the waiter runs by carrying the loaded
tray
for all the wise white boys who laugh at
us.
no matter. no matter,
as long as your shoes are tied and
nobody is walking too close
behind.
just being able to scratch yourself and
be nonchalant is victory
enough.
those constipated minds that seek
larger meaning
will be dispatched with the other
garbage.
back off.
if there is light
it will find
you.
people went into vacant lots and pulled up greens to cook and the
men rolled Bull Durham or smoked Wings (10¢ a pack) and the dogs
were thin and the cats were thin and the cats learned how to catch
mice and rats and the dogs caught and killed the cats (some of the
cats), and gophers tore up the earth and people killed them by
attaching garden hoses to the exhaust pipes of their cars and
sticking the hoses into the gopher holes and when the gophers came
out the cats and the dogs and the people were afraid of them, they
circled and showed their long thin teeth, then they stopped and
shivered and as they did the cats rushed in followed by the dogs.
people raised chickens in their back yards and the roosters were
weak and the hens were thin and the people ate them if they didn’t
lay eggs fast enough, and the best time of all was when John
Dillinger escaped from jail, and one of the saddest times of all was
when the Lady in Red fingered him and he was gunned down
coming out of that movie.
Pretty Boy Floyd, Baby Face Nelson, Machine Gun Kelly, Ma
Barker, Alvin Karpis, we loved them all. and there were always
wars starting in China and they never lasted long but the
newspapers had big black headlines: WAR IN CHINA!
the ’30s were a time when people had very little and there was
nothing to hide behind, and that Bull Durham tag dangling from
the string coming out of your pocket—that showed you had it, you
could roll with one hand—plenty of time to practice and if somebody
looked at you wrong or said something you didn’t like you cracked
him one right in the mouth. it was a glorious non-bullshit time,
especially after we got rid of Herbert Hoover.
