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Showing posts with label Charlie Brice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charlie Brice. Show all posts

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Charlie Brice writes


What I Learned from My Mother 
                                    After Julia Kasdorf



To thy own self be true.
Hard work pays off.
Do your best always.
If you make a promise, keep it.
Don’t give up.
Don’t let others get in your way.



Don’t be smart.
Don’t learn too much
or stop being the class clown,
that could get intimidating,
that could make it necessary
to miss the parent/teacher conferences.



You can stay in a relationship
for twenty-eight years
with a drunken sop
mostly because, up against him,
you look strong and competent.



When your drunken husband dies
you take over the restaurant supply business.
You borrow lots of money
because your suppliers ship everything
COD since a woman, in 1964,
shouldn’t be running a business.



You put up with your customers’ crazy demands.
You repair their broken ranges
and refrigeration units on Sunday.
The customer is always right.
You make your business
a tremendous success
and sell it to your main competitor
in Denver. You date him,
but drop him when he suggests
a romantic week in Sicily.
You never leave the Catholic Church
even though it totally abandoned you.



You can ride an emotional roller coaster
all your life, you can be tremendously generous,
and fly into uncontrollable rages
in unpredictable seconds.
You can call your son a shit-ass,
a son-of-a-bitch, then you can
tell him you love him.
Gaea the Earth | Athenian red-figure calyx krater C5th B.C. | Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond
 Gaea and Erichthonius-- Manner of Kadmos Painter

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Charlie Brice writes


Buffalo

On Sundays my mother took me to Frontier Park
where there were three old, worn out, scruffy
and dusty buffalo. I can’t remember
my father ever being there.

Those were calm Sundays.
My father was probably sleeping it off.
Maybe mother hadn’t drunk the night before.
I don’t know.

We’d take a loaf of whole wheat bread.
She’d hold me up to the fence and
I’d feed one of the buffalo a slice.
His old sandpaper tongue

would glide out of his mouth.
He never took his side-eye off me—
even as I fed him. He’d learned

never to trust a white person.

giants in the mist american buffalo bison emerge from snow in yellowstone wildlife painting by artist james corwin
Giants in the Mist -- James Corwin