Catbird

 D L Girard, July 5, 2011

"You can stay"

So D. found a spot to roost

wildly turning his head

from side to side, not unlike a praying mantis

when it eyes its prey

flapping his arms

punctuating his sentences with

"Wowww, maaan!"

So he stayed and

Regaled us with stories of his travels

across the states,

His deals, his near escapes

comically flapping his arms all the while

He introduced us to hashish

laced with what is erroneously called angel dust

Starting to panic, my heart pounding in my ears

the telltale heart, 

revealing my paranoia, my panic

To prevent a stir,

I busied myself by cooking sopapillas, sofapillas all night

The puffy bits of fried dough

permeating my clothes along with burnt Crisco

At one of our many impromptu parties

he brought some "friends"

one pasty, jerking and hopping

the junkie's jig

disappearing with D., then reappearing

on our sofa gloriously sated

I knew.  I had  Cathode Ray images of "The Man With the Golden Arm"

flashing in my fourteen year old head.

One day D. flew, presumably

back to De Moines

back to where my ancestors lived for generations

back to my mother's home town

She knew his family-small  world!

leaving me wondering

if he finally found his own nest
leaving room for another to take his place.

Video courtesy of MC Jungle Paul.