June 18, 2009

John Grey


So when was the first time I started looking
down on the old man and not up to
him. Maybe it was when I got my driver's
license, and then my own car, and even
though I was still at home, I felt like
I was renting, kept my own hours, even
brought a girl up to my room though
just to admire my heavy metal albums.
Even though he was still an inch or two
taller than me, I made up the difference by
staying out until the early hours of the morning,
grabbing a beer from the refrigerator just like
he did, buying my own clothes, the last of which
ensured my mother was no longer my mother.
I even dared have an opinion on politics
different than his own. And I found a job
with better prospects than... that's the
joke of course. He never had a job
with prospects. I've heard the kids of
immigrants talk about how each generation
paves the way for the next. He didn't
pave the way for me however. He just
was, like the television just was, especially
with him plunked down in front of it. Not that
I didn't love him of course. But then I found
someone else to love, a whole world of passion
beyond my parents' snore-filled sleep and languid
conversation. And now she's pregnant. And he'll be
a grandfather, outsized for the second time. And I'll
likely go the same way when my child grows. But
for now, I'll just get married, buy a house, stay home
nights, pay off a mortgage. Or I could just shrink,
whichever comes the soonest.


John Grey has been published recently in the Georgetown Review, Connecticut Review, South Carolina Review and The Pedestal, with work upcoming in Poetry East and The Pinch.

No comments: