Another Way to Play

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Another Way to Play Page 8

by Michael Lally


  hear you tell them what they

  meant to hear by being quiet

  but the others didn’t know—

  until you knew so much about

  them, there was nothing left

  but to be cool too and turn it

  into something else like

  music or dope or poetry . . .

  *

  It seems so fucking stupid to complain.

  SO THIS IS MIDDLE AGE?

  So this is middle age?

  No.

  This is grown up though,

  at least maturity at last,

  at 35

  no longer kidding about

  outwitting fate,

  knowing what’s wanted

  what’s available,

  what’s what,

  and not giving up

  but giving in

  until refreshed,

  then going after it again.

  (Where the fuck’s the music in it!

  Hearing it’s not enough.

  It’s time to get tough with the stuff

  of 35 years in the brain—

  demands to be met

  let’s forget:

  the music isn’t regrets,

  it’s knowing where the potential stopped

  and the real thing began or passed by,

  like the stages of growth in reverse:

  this is mine this is mine that’s yours . . .

  I can’t go on

  at 35

  caring too much about too much;

  when the lights go out it’s the dark ages:

  mine.

  ATTITUDE

  (Hanging Loose Press 1982)

  THE OTHER NIGHT

  I went out on the balcony

  to watch the helicopters

  circle over the campus

  about a mile away.

  My neighbor came out

  on his balcony, just back

  from Nam and up for a few

  medals. We figured the

  number of choppers: 4.

  We figured the number of

  National Guardsmen. He had

  heard 800 out at the base;

  I’d heard about a thousand

  on underground FM.

  Our wives were inside with

  the kids. His watching TV

  waiting for the ice to get hard.

  Mine making something, anything

  to not be not making something,

  anything, going over in her mind

  the arguments she had for insisting

  I get a gun.

  My neighbor in his GI haircut

  and tattoos and straight legged

  pants (me in my hair and bells

  and tattoo and straight legged past

  —he collects guns, I argue—)

  motions toward the campus. I

  follow his gesture and see clouds

  coming from the choppers. My

  neighbor calculates the wind and

  estimates the time it’ll take

  to reach us.

  HONKY HILL (HYATTSVILLE MARYLAND)

  no blacks

  upstairs orientals

  and out back

  downstairs rednecks

  some indians

  many latin, mexican,

  puerto rican

  in the air shaft:

  ya got nice hair

  why would I lie

  for christs sake

  you’re 12 years old

  you wanna spend

  the rest of your life

  with straw on your

  head like me? and

  bleaching and fixing

  it all the time just

  to look decent, o

  why cantchu leave it

  the way you were born

  beam ceilings look good

  but all it means is:

  no insulation, so noise

  level is 850% above

  that necessary to drive

  white mice to biting

  each others eyes out

  two abandoned cars

  in the parking lot

  both red, both convertible

  both with 4 flats

  both swarmed on by kids

  both related somehow to

  the men who never come out

  OUT IN THE HALL

  out in the hall

  the sweeper, he

  comes here every morning

  about this time

  and whistles to

  all of us hiding behind our doors

  would he be a famous composer if

  or a wealthy songwriter from nashville

  should he have stepped on people

  left his wife & kids at his mothers place

  decided never to sweep anyone elses dirt

  made it on his guts and determination

  what was he going to be when

  he found himself with a broom and

  the halls outside all our doors

  through the open

  window we can

  hear the echo of

  his whistle as he

  carries his broom

  to the next place

  it sounds a little like

  the kind of tune you wake up

  in the morning humming but

  cant remember where you heard it

  what its names is or why it makes you

  feel so young, so early summer morning

  the old lady upstairs says

  god bless, god bless the sweeper man

  ERIC DOLPHY

  eric dolphy blew my brains out

  eric dolphy blew his heart out

  eric dolphy blew away big business under berlin

  eric dolphy in international waters

  eric dolphy at midnight on east tenth in spring 1961

  eric dolphy looking through me

  eric dolphy signing away the air

  eric dolphy jack hammer

  eric dolphy in the tree

  eric dolphy between you and me

  eric dolphy under duress

  eric dolphy in the army, air force, marines, navy, coast guard

  eric dolphy in love

  eric dolphy walking without shoes

  eric dolphy against the wall

  eric dolphy pushing organs around

  eric dolphy watching old shirley temple movies with bo robinson

  eric doplhy sitting down to lunch

  eric dolphy walking away

  eric dolphy riding in a taxi uptown

  eric dolphy hungry, eating milky ways, smelling fresh cooked

  chicken upstairs

  eric dolphy watching me move

  eric dolphy following me home

  eric dolphy dying on my wedding day

  eric dolphy dying on your wedding day

  eric dolphy dying

  eric dolphy dead

  eric dolphy silent

  eric dolphy laying down

  eric dolphy falling down

  eric dolphy not moving

  eric dolphy gone

  eric dolphy back again

  “IN 1962 I WAS LIVING . . .”

  in 1962 I was living in an Air

  Force barracks in Rantoul Illi

  nois/had a dark inverted V on

  the upper sleeves of my uniform

  where my Airman Third Class stri

  pes had been before I went AWOL

  to San Francisco and got courts

  martialed/over my locker I had

  a picture of an old friend from

  Jersey who I often called when

  drunk so we could moan and groan

  to each other across 1500 miles

  she was attractive to me and a

  down, good people but to our mu

  tual friends she was homely with

  her flat black face and skinny

  round shoulders/a new guy came

  in one afternoon when I was on

  guard duty and I sho
wed him his

  bunk/he walked up and down the

  aisle between the bunks looking

  at the one picture allowed over

  everyones clothes locker/he came

  back to the desk and sitting on

  it with his big muscled country

  boy ass and fullback thighs said

  I see we got a nigger in here &

  a ugly nigger at that/I asked

  what made him say that and he got

  up and walked to my bunk and then

  pointed to the picture of my old

  friend and lover Dolores/it was

  her high school picture in one of

  those grey paper frames with the

  ragged white edge/she had invited

  me to her prom in East Orange &

  I had declined because I couldn’t

  leave but I went AWOL anyway

  and she had her date take her to

  New York City and drop her off

  where she met me in Washington

  Square and then went to bed on the

  couch at a friends apartment/I

  wasn’t caught that time/this time

  I walked up to the big country boy

  and said “That’s my wife” as quietly

  as I could to still be heard/he

  turned red faced and started to say

  something about nigger-/I pulled

  my nail clippers combination file

  from my pocket and told him if he

  ever said anything to me again or

  I heard he had said something about

  me or my wife I would guarantee I

  would take at least one of his eyes

  out before he killed me which I was

  sure he could do with his meaty red

  hands/I held the nail file open &

  glared at him/another guy watched

  from the doorway to the latrine/I

  guess I meant it/sometimes I told

  guys I’d puncture their ear drums

  with a pencil if they fucked with

  me/this big bear sort of grunted

  & actually looked frightened/he

  finally walked away and never

  bothered me again, like most of

  the guys who in that barracks

  happened to be all white/I never

  told Dolores/I did ask her to

  marry me one time/we had an ar

  gument about babies/when/how

  many/it was an excuse to call it

  off/I went away/I hear she is on

  the nod quite often in Washington

  Square/I now have two blonde babies

  FEELING

  tight and angled

  like a 17th century woodcut

  only in my veins

  where I rarely imagine myself

  or anything recognizably me

  because blood has always seemed so

  impersonal and uninteresting

  unlike shoulders or fur coats or

  new things to do with skin and bodies.

  I love the way a fortune hunter

  sucks his brandy without venom

  after the wealthy prey has gone away

  and wonder why I envy such classic guts

  because it takes more than simple moxie

  to have passionate sex by proxy

  or are there people who can come

  at the thought of a thousand dollar bill

  the way some can at the image of a gun?

  I wonder whatever happened to

  post-war morality and when

  will we see what was generating

  the light at the end of the tunnel

  or was it a funnel?

  LISTS

  for Deb Fredo

  coverage of vernacular

  deep image like say:

  the dead end in the soap

  or

  super rabbits of the sleep in my veins

  no more graphs

  no more stories

  no more apoplexy

  just: the highway of your frame

  the lush thigh of her brown eye

  the cruising speed of orange clouds

  the boys and girls in each xerox copier

  o Walt Whitman, great housewife of American lust

  you gave us the lists to improve upon

  and now we wait to find out who will

  or if

  making our own for purely personal pleasure

  as the solitary lover explains her hands

  or the invalid his routines

  (nobody has to be insulted though)

  TOUCH

  touch has asked me to

  memorize your sweet smell

  FALLING IN LOVE

  “trying to catch my breath”

  makes a lot of sense as an

  expression having to do with

  “took my breath away”

  because you did this morning

  with your mellower than me

  appearance meaning eyes and

  the way your clothes seemed

  to be around you not on you

  and your skin a light for

  the way your body was reading

  the atmosphere casually as

  you passed through it picking

  out fruit and some kind of oil

  that sounded healthy and

  filled your pint jar and

  the name of it filled your

  mouth as you spoke to me

  for the first time answering

  a question I wanted to sound

  like “breathless” in spirit

  but not in will because I am

  always afraid my frightened

  teenage punk will look out

  from this adult mature hungry

  thirty-two-year-old frame of

  mine that reminds me of all

  I’ve been through till now

  without you and how cool the

  air would have been in Jersey

  summers with you around to

  fill it and then somehow I

  mentioned my kids and became

  afraid that that would sound

  like a complicated set of

  circumstances for you to move

  in without losing some of the

  my god it’s not even the usual

  sexuality or sensuality or

  fun-of-another-body feeling

  but something more like I

  dreamt in grammar school when

  the possibility of love began

  to take shape more in dreams

  than in watching the girls on

  their way home from school or

  not playing ball with us in

  the playground where I know

  now you could easily outpitch

  me or any of the other punks

  I grew up with who were as

  nervous as I was about how

  foolish we might all really be

  and tried making that go away

  with our fists so that I was

  “trying to catch my breath”

  even when I wasn’t falling in love

  FATHERS DAY

  The suffering in 1942 as Spring

  breaks open my mother for me.

  In Europe the Jews, the Communists,

  the Queers, the proud and

  loving Rom are brutalized

  again. The Irish in me is

  emphasized, not the German,

  not the Gypsy

  I hope is there.

  “You can’t write books” my father said

  before I did, and after. At 75

  me 32 he warns “Raise your children

  right, get them through college

  okay, then you can write your books.”

  He knows a lot I don’t. I know

  a lot he never thought of. We share

  little of that, though we share a lot.

  Not much through words, but gesture
s

  and the looks of him I carry always.

  We are afraid of each other

  like con men, or lovers, we know

  we can hurt.

  WHAT WE’RE MISSING

  Old corny ’40s style music takes me back

  I was a kid

  after “the war”

  older sisters and brothers digging 78 records

  no tv

  radio fights, like Joe Louis and Ezzard Charles

  somehow the seasons seemed more like seasons

  less like semesters or election years or crises

  things weren’t easy

  but things weren’t impossible

  growing up was a drag

  but it really hadn’t started yet

  that was the ’50s

  this was the ’40s

  I was still a kid

  life was still a gift I didn’t have to work for

  all this and it’s 1974.

  What music can do for us

  we should be able to do for ourselves

  and sometimes we do,

  when that happens too often they put us away

  or try to change us,

  when it happens just enough

  and we learn how to share it

  they make us stars,

  when it doesn’t happen enough

  but enough to let us know it’s there and possible

  we fight with it and with too many other things

  blaming almost everything, anything,

  coming close to being fools, but not crazy,

  or geniuses, eccentrics, but not stars,

  failures, but not magnificent,

  or almost failures.

  When it doesn’t happen at all

  we don’t know what we’re missing.

  2/4/76

  I used to want to be

  a nice tough guy

  Now I want to be

  a tough nice guy

  NOTICE TO CREDITORS

  I hate to make the connections

  all evident and intelligible

  and consistently directed and

  informed—references and this

  from this and “it” excised for

  the creation of categories to then

  be studied for relationships to be

  applied to forging continuous logic

  of structures—institutions—and

  justifying claims to overlapping

  areas of interest and conquest

  and contradicting claims of priorities

  and resolutions to no conclusion

  other than “holding back the void”—

  head in hands—heavy—just from

  servicing the day—and the sky

  so blue it’s worth a ritual or two—

  at least a relaxation toward a

 

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