Monday, January 9, 2012

It's a Long Story, Part 12 ~ Maurice Oliver


I have to decide between a haircut or keeping my
doctor's appointment. So I decide there's
no way I could be the child of my parents. Neither am
I a sore scab or hair that falls out in
patches. I feel too energetic, like a brand new dance
sensation just in time Easter break.
Snakes don't lie either. They just sort of crawl to their
next pry and never use the handrails.
Fish are the first to return. I started when I was four,
the alewives making tiny bubbles that
raise to the water's surface. On the eight day it rains.
A Calvary lines up along a mound
on the prairie. Indians, on the other hand, make good tap dancers and a
few times you just
have to rent a U-Haul. I didn't learn much in college but
I did have fun. It smelled like black
pepper and glowed in the dark. My favorite course was
tumbleweed. Milk jugs were a close
second. Puritans lived inside my gym locker and would
beg for a few crumbs of food every time
I unlocked the door. Some would crawl out the passenger window. But it
was the deer you had
to worry about, especially at night. Once I found a carving knife in
the taxidermist. I whipped
out my cell phone and called 911 before it could porcelain embers and
saved the day. I've always
been pretty modest too. My grimace is chili to boot, driven overload to
the nearest bird's nest.
What else? Oh, my childhood story slams the door, then locks the yawn
in jam from blueberries.





Maurice's poetry has appeared in numerous national and international publications
and literary websites including Potomac Journal, Pebble Lake Review,
Frigg Magazine, Dandelion Magazine, (Canada), Stride Magazine (UK),
Cha Asian Literary Journal, (Hong Kong), Kritya (India), Blueprint Review,
(Germany) and Arabesques Review (Algeria). His fourth chapbook was One
Remedy Is Travel (Origami Condom, 2007). He edits the literary ezine
Eye Socket Journal at: http://eyesocketjournal.blogspot.com . He lives
in Portland, OR, where he works as a private tutor.

 


    

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