me and the banging machine
“The swirl of this pudding, sometimes called Milky, usually Buddy.” More than walking down the sun-streaming streets. Some gentle degree of strutting. And all the times and all the connections, and that cool Zen question, “What was my face before my parents were born?” Yeah that too, and drugs and years and years sans drugs, and the books I’ve written – and especially Milky’s, kids – and used cars and shared apartments, there’s that very cool yellow building at 102 Derby Street in Salem, me and Mike the pool shark and Billy, man of courage and joy. And awards and disgraces, decisions I’m sorry I made and decisions someone else made for me and my cool brother-in-law DeeDee and famous walks and that time I ran/walked 100 miles to raise money for the Allison Burke Fund, and finally getting around to avocados and now what the heck would I do without them.
The swirl of this pudding, where the official Birth Certificate from New Bedford, Mass. says Winston, which, I don’t know, maybe that’s my face before my parents were born. And my two boys. Can’t forget this keyboard, this index banging machine.
And all the kids. All this time. Me, one of ’em.