sleeping in the afternoon beneath my window—
then I hear someone outside shout
GODDAMNIT
and look out the window
at a man across the street
standing by a silvery car
he’s bent to the car’s open window
and I hear him say to the backseat area: what did I tell you
that’s a GODDAMN LIE you don’t HAVE IT
because you left it in your GODDAMNED CUBBY
now get out of the car GET OUT NOW no
STAY THERE you’ll stay inside because
I can’t take you GODDAMNED ANYWHERE
and then he begins walking
up the street
in the direction of the house
a few up from mine
where
there’s a lady
that provides some kind of daycare service
the man is tall and thin
has an exceptionally small head
with short black hair
receding in the front
pointed down as he walks
slowly
I think I recognize the look
and particularly
the sound of that man—wasn’t he out there
a month or so ago
leading a crying kid back to his car:
I work all day long and come back TO THIS
GODDAMNIT I asked you and then
I asked her and what did she say you were you doing
MIS-BE-HAVING
now I have to go back and APOLOGIZE
he said
now stay here and DON’T MOVE
I’ll be back to DEAL WITH YOU
I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER
and after the man left the kid in the car
had wailed and wailed
just
for him
and me to hear
yep
I think it’s the same guy alright, only
this time I don’t see a kid in the car
I don’t see anyone in the backseat
but I know he’s in there
somewhere
hunkering down between the brown seats, maybe, trying
to get small
become invisible to his father
the Man
who doesn’t see the funny
who doesn’t play
who slowly walks away—
he’s
the Goddamn Man
I watch the Goddamn Man walk out of view
and remember the terror of the word
TROUBLE
as I stare at the silvery car
watching for the kid
waiting for a sudden arm or a sudden head
to rise
behind the back window
seemingly empty...
and here comes
the Goddamn Man
again
walking carefully
like he’s carrying a load of shit
in his underwear
he looks up at my window: an Ernie’s Bert uni-brow
poised to attack, then
at the ground
and into
the open window of the car
where he shouts some more
at the unseen passenger
the sound of his bark is enough to give my world
goosebumps
enough
to remember how my dad’s sounded
when he got angry at me—how sudden the earthquakes
struck to damage, though
thankfully
most of the time
he was not
such
a Goddamn Man
the Goddamn Man outside
turns his back to the open window
leans against the driver’s side door
and looks up at the sky
for a minute
before he lets his head fall back down
and begins another mournful walk up the street
to the daycare lady
I watch the silent silvery car a little while longer
and then
go downstairs
for another glass of water
and when I look out my window again
the Goddamn Man
is gone.
Ronan Barbour says, "I've been writing a couple years and have had some poems of mine recently published in the small press, namely in Zygote in my Coffee and Literary Vision. I've also got a few poems forthcoming in My Favorite Bullet, remark, and Zygote. My stuff is mostly about experiences I have or thoughts that come to me while working part-time as a retail clerk."