river rat: you caused a redness
You filled my mouth with clay, holding
to your breast my first model car.
The roof had been pushed to the seats,
the paint you blistered in a fire.
Around your neck seven teeth set
in polished bright copper against,
your skin, dangling, jangling just like
that old set of sleigh bells Dad had.
He used to dress up as Santa
and you would slip rocks into his
boots while on his lap just so you
could hear him cuss on standing up.
I told him it was you, not me,
and still he beat me for your sins.
There wasn't a thing in the world
that gave you more pleasure than that.
Water, gallons of it, along
with two oranges killed the taste.
You laughed out loud and said the teeth
belonged to my old dog, Chiclet.
