I'm My Father's Son

So it ends so it begins
I'm my father's son
Plant another seed of hate
in a trusting virgin gun

I must have been about seven or eight. I was still dressed in my dark, navy blue trousers, white striped Ralph Lauren polo, and some nautical off-brand moccasins that were my favorite childhood shoes. I was looking rather spiffy. Come to think of it, I always looked spiffy growing up as a poor, black boy. My mother was a hardworking woman who would wear scrappy dresses and Payless shoes, so I could wear Ralph Lauren….I LOVE HER FOR THAT.

Anyways, my mother, grandmother, and I were in some department store; I think Sears. We were looking at pots and pans and out the corner of my eyes, I spotted this crazy-looking man and I just could not take my eyes off of him. He had a dark complexion and I remember he had terrible skin. His face was bumpy. He was skinny and short. He was with this fat lady who had patted down, nappy hair. When he laughed, I realized that on top of his awful, awful, appearance, he had a nerve to be missing his front tooth. I thought that this man was a wreck, and even at the young age of seven, other people wrecks made me laugh! I had this loud, boisterous, obnoxious, laughter. My mother hated it and still hates it. As soon as I started laughing, my grandmother and mother heads turned instantly, and before they could give me that evil, you better cut your shit short eye, my mother looked like she had just seen the devil himself. I will never forget her stoic, blank face. What was happening? I stop laughing quickly. Being a true, true Mama's Boy, I sensed that something was wrong and my stomach turned sour. My mother walked me over to the man and the fat woman beside him.

She then uttered words that I will never forget. "Eugene this is your son. Jay this is your dad". I looked around all over. That hideous, drunk man was my father. I had never seen a picture of him and nobody talked about him. I made up these fantasies about who he was and what he looked like, but now I was looking at a man who I thought was really ugly and really drunk. The first thing that ran through my mind was that this meant I was ugly too. He was ugly. I was ugly. I kept replaying that in my mind. All Eugene said was, "hey son. I'm your dad". I just looked.

He and my mom went back and forth for about thirty seconds. My grandmother was just standing there, squeezing my hand, doing some serious gagging herself. I could not even cry, but I sure wanted too. Didn't he know about Doughnuts for Dads? My elementary school had this shit every year and every year I made up some new lie why my daddy could not come. My dad did not even say bye to me. His last words were "Call me sometimes." Where the hell was I going to get his number? I did not even know him.

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P.S. I still feel ugly.

I Can Feel The Distance

CHINA all the way to new york
i can feel the distance
getting close
you're right next to me
but i need an airplane
i can feel the DISTANCE
as you breathe.

I feel it. I feel it quite often. I feel it when I sit in my prestigious all-male classroom and nobody dares talk to me. I feel it when I am at the barbershop and he's looking at me differently and taking my money indifferently. I feel it when I am up late night internet shopping...and the materialistic lust makes me brand new. I feel it when I watch an episode of that show that I'm much too embarrassed to say....and wish that my life was like that...that easy...that simple...that breezy. I feel it when I think about all the people that I will have to step on to climb my way to the top. I feel it when I realize that I just cannot realize that "SHE" didn't win the election. I feel it when I got those text messages and I knew that he cried. I thought about all those times that I was him and somebody made me cry. I feel it when nostalgia hits me...but there is just no looking back. I can't. It's been a long journey from where I started and now I dream of Ferragamo briefcases, Burberry Topcoats, a Perfectly Tailored Suit from Hugo Boss, a freckled face assistant that I can scream at, a Firefighter Red Hummer, a Bank Account That Never Says No, and the infinite hunger that Les often speaks of. I'm hungry Les. I've been hungry for a very, very, VERY long time. But Mr. Brown, I'm also confused. I'm confused and lonely. I'm confused, lonely, and numb....but don't worry I'm still hungry most of all.

What is it that I feel?
Everything.
Nothing.