Sunday, February 4, 2024

ransom of red chief

my son,
when he was six used to throw
food
across the table
in restaurants,
hot dogs, burgers,
a Salisbury
steak.
he hit an old lady
in a wheelchair once,
with a chicken nugget,
which got us kicked out.
we'd tie him to a chair
like a small
animal
and let him lick 
the butter
out of the little plastic
packages
and spill
sugar from packages
into his open
mouth
making him rattle
like a snake
about to strike.
sometimes he'd hoot and holler,
whooping it up
like a wild Indian
after
putting ketchup stripes
on his face.
my wife at the time blamed
his behavior
on me,
and my upbringing,
saying that i rubbed off on him.
she may
have been right.

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