After the incident on the quiet street in the perfect house

Peter Menkin - Jul 6, 2001


Daddy went into the night
in the nice neighborhood.
Too much stained glass,
making colors, cutting shapes.
I guess.
He was an artist.
The door was left open.
She yelled something, his wife
did.

When I passed the house
years ago, soon after,
there was something
that happened there.
Sad, bad night.

The worst I saw him do
was put his boots up on the glass
table in my living room.

He was larger than life,
wanting to embrace even
the Bay.

Pick it up! Golden Gate Bridge,
and all.
His!

He went to Berkeley, and then
you could hitchhike to the University
everyday to your job.
Ride share.

After the incident done
before the children,
he took a job as a deckhand
on the ferryboat. Larkspur, CA.

Madness. Disaster.

His mother was a doctor,
M.D. type, and so was his
father, M.D. type. She
talked to him, in the
family home--

He threw her television
set out the second story
window.

End conversation.

I hope he remarried
and had five more children.



Audio reading of poem by poet is here: