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| Stars and Stripes 30 x 40 cm gouache/oil pastel/charcoal on paper |
A BAG OF POTATO
CHIPS
A voice in
my head lobbied against it—
the voice
of bad conscience it
was
sometimes and voice of good news
other
times, voice of my wife full-time
it was a
relatively short voice that
seemed to
think it was tall—but I jumped anyway,
slamming my
knee against an outcrop
of porous
stone. I ask you to imagine physical
agony as a
location, a spot on the map,
that’s where
I was ( Pain City, Ohio, sounds about right,
shops preening
with leather and steel devices,
unyielding
plastic, ferocious dildos, bull whips, etc.), and I’m
hobbling
down the mountain side, hungry as a bear, thinking only
about the rolled
up bag of potato
chips, contents
half-eaten, on the passenger seat of our filthy little Fiat.
Down before
the shadows could catch us up
the voice
said “Boy, you should never jump in the mountains,”
threatening
to report me to her grandfather, severe pedagogue
of the alpine heights, a short man
who also seemed
to think he was tall. I could only
answer with
crunching noises, having just
shoved a
handful of chips into my mouth.
Barbecue-flavored,
if I’m right, with just a hint of cheese.
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