by Howie Good
My grandfather had a bad heart.
The doctors warned him
about smoking a pack a day
and drinking slivovitz,
the plum brandy that tastes
like nail polish remover smells,
but he didn’t listen.
One day he collapsed in the street.
Someone else ran to the firehouse for help.
A fireman who had been shining
a fire truck, a pump and ladder, ran out.
My grandfather looked dead.
He wasn’t moving at all.
He wasn’t even moaning.
The fireman gave him mouth-to-mouth.
People later said it was lucky
he collapsed right outside a firehouse.
Otherwise, they said, he wouldn’t be here.
Then my grandmother got sick and died,
and my parents got old themselves.
They put my grandfather into a nursing home.
He would quietly unzip and pee in the hall.
*a review of Howie's new chapbook:
- ► 2010 (221)
- ► 2009 (479)
- our waitress at the farm themed restaurant
- SquamousCell Carcinoma
- HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS
- my father's drawer in the basement
- driving the wedge
- & alarm bells keep ringing
- getting dirty
- Jack Palance
- PUMP AND LADDER
- today, at the hospital
- what makes their eyes go dead?
- chapter one of my seventeenth life
- She Doesn’t Deserve This
- Bourbon Burlesque
- FORTUNATE SON
- DID WE?
- A moment in time
- Concrete jungle
- LOOKING FOR WORK, WEEK 5
- Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
- What I Saw When I Thought I Was Having a Heart-Att...
- Untitled Dream That Led Me To Stop Believing
- No Catchy Title
- Toe Salad
- sipping a screwdriver at the ghetto bar half mile ...
- Mary through the wall
- George W. Bush Ate My Pussy Then Paid Me $10,000
- monarchy no more
- My Train
- I felt like a hamburger
- NOT YET, BUT SOON
- Fractured Like Thin Glass And Glued Together Again...
- Ho-sehs run
- Franco Nero
- The Lakeside Lounge
- something like chekhov
- water on the brain
- ▼ December (41)