My Mother's Mistake

His vomit in the multicolored rocks, Half-digested chicken breathing from his mouth With each word bouncing out of his heaving body. “What do you mean? What do you mean it’s over?” Choking on his breath, his tears He is hunched like the Notre Dame man. Patting his back, I wait for the moment to pass. Mosquitoes buzzing in the yellow porch light, Moon hanging in the black sky – Winking down at us with his sly half grin – he knows, Stars set to sparkle and shine, and The warm sweet summer air, Contaminated by the hunchback boy crying. He had offered me a drink of Jack With the joint we smoked Under the stairs of The King Pin But his chicken was obviously thirsty. Drunken chicken then drove me home - On the back of a black crotch rocket - From a bowling date, a first date after six months Of sex in the small basement bed While the spiders watched. “I was going to marry you.” Oh no, my dear boy. You were simply The mistake I made for my mother.