Tag Archives: Mitchell Grabois

Cleanin’ out my father’s house

by Mitchell Grabois


he almost would have qualified

as a hoarder

if anyone cared

 

kept every birthday

father’s day

Xmas card I ever sent him

there’s my name a thousand times

under Hallmark drivel

a sixty year river

of saccharine sentiment

emptying into

a saccharine ocean

in which he now lives

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McNally’s

by Mitchell Grabois


Back in the day

before yuppies fucked it

Bill McNally’s was dark

sour and hood

 

Dick the bartender

kept my emptied glasses

on the bar

tryin’ to prove to any stranger

that I was a drunk and a loser

and they could beat me at bumper pool

 

15 screwdrivers

down to ice and o.j sludge

my attention crystalline

on the red and white balls

my bag of quarters keeping roberta flack my bitch

(I’ve been making him

kill her softly

so many times that

she should be dead

but she keeps singin’

as enduring as i)

 

My opponents clunk

like balls down the hole

red and white

my empty glasses line up on the bar

like bums at salvation army

waiting for a meal

 

mcnally’s regulars

strongarm the losers

if they think they can welsh

on a barely standing drunk

I’m buyin’ drinks for everyone

off my winnings

as usual

 

amazing how many losers

they bring off the street

I switch to marlene dietrich

Comix

by Mitchell Grabois


His kids come

son and daughter

obviously in hate with each other

both wearin’ his expressionless pupils

both hurlin’ eye daggers

 

I escape across the road

to Dan Connolly’s bar

not wanting to get nicked

my pitiful wrinkly body

needin’ all its blood

Walking rap sheets

those two

 

Connolly sees me come in

starts up with the

O’ Danny Boy

then slides quick into Irish Eyes

and when he finally stops

I’ve downed the first of

the Old Bushmills

he sets down

on the house

on account of me being a widow

and him pals with my dead husband

 

What’s up, he asks

 

I say: Rodney’s kids upstairs

bangin’ ‘round

 

We look out the window

at the daughter

pushing a blue dumpster

direct under my apartment window

puttin’ her broad back into it

Then the

torrent begins

 

the son throwin’ his dad’s comic books

out the window

 

Dan Connolly rushes to the door

throws it open

yells

Hey! Them’s worth money!

Your dad collected thirty years

 

Fuck you, you worthless old fart

yells the son from the window

throwin’ out another armload

missing the wide mouth of the dumpster

even the possibility of money

not enough to keep the oaf

from trashin’ his old man

now he’s finally got the chance

free and clear

 

Dan Connolly rushes behind the bar

grabs his sawed-off

but I head him off

say, Whoa Seabiscuit

You get put it jail

who pours my Bushmills?

 

He stands there breathin’ hard

I start countin’ the breaths

When I get to 38

he lets the gun slump

like erectile dysfunction

goes behind the bar

changes the TV channel

I dislike that Judge Judy, he says

 

Then the door flies open

the son standing there

all lit up from behind

He yells at me:

I want your saggy ass out of that apartment by sundown

 

That’s my apartment, I scream

Been payin’ the rent from the get-go

 

As I finish

Dan Connolly comes out from behind the bar

with his sawed-off