THOSE BEFORE US LAUGH FROM ABOVE, UNLESS THEY’RE ON A LADDER
I had seen you lying there all waxy and painted. I poked your face because you couldn’t react. That’s not true. I was too scared to hug one last time. I couldn’t. Your eyes were dulled and dusted pennies.
What happened to you? Where did you go? You left before the spillage, the scattering. You would have enjoyed it. You would have laughed.
Your brother in law had a brother who is a priest, a real one. He was from Wexford. You knew him, a long time ago. He said some words there in the cemetery as we made an effort at remembrance. He looked like Trevor Howard in that movie with his fingerless gloves on on a hill in the west of Ireland, which is where we were, where you are and will ever be, in Bandon. The church is nice, for mice and rice. Oh, stop it.
Our cousins had a pub in the town centre, so we went there after.
My two brothers showed up. I don’t talk about them. I was wearing brown shoes. J was wearing black shoes and the younger one was wearing pointy shoes. You were all our dad though, dead to all of us.
There was a bar right on Bandon Bridge, the one your dad looked at the river from, wistfully, wishing for his times back in world war one, as he gummed on his memories. Bandon Bridge, the one the sad Mrs jumped off, the one you found fishing.
It was a different bar now though. It was a late night drinking place. We went there.
There was a man in there who had a problem. I wrestled him to the ground right outside. My younger brother kicked him in the head several times. My older brother probably did too. I didn’t because some fat fucker from the pub sat on my chest by that point and then the police came. The guards. There was some shouting, female shouting. I saw my brothers trying to escape as I was being squashed. Go, I thought. They came back and apologized but by that time the man was bleeding all over the bridge.
What did you do? Where did you go? Are you laughing? We got arrested under chuckling clouds. The bits and bobs of other men were smattered on the ground.
Locked up with my brothers. We spent our lives trying not to be together. Are you still laughing?
All I could think about was Dee, but I sang some songs.
The guards brought us sausage sandwiches that I couldn’t eat. My younger brother was beside himself in the next cell so we got some sleep. He can talk.
I love you but I want to forget. I want to get on. No more funerals. I’m such a dick. Was it my fault? Who cares about those questions? It’s not like you’re married to a shrink. What a trip. We missed our flights home and instead met a judge who insisted it was a problem of the “deeassporrah!”
He also insisted that we pay the bloody feller some compensation.
Then we got the fuck out of Dodge and never looked back.
We left you to it. Abandoned you, It’s cyclical.
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