MULTI-LINGUAL MONOTONE
I'm not going anywhere but crazy - and Ma's no longer
home; her and her multilingual monotone. The kids have
put away their coloring books, and they've stopped singing
those Katzenjammer songs. Even the ice cream man doesn't
come around here any more. The saw-sharpener and the
gadfly priest, some applies to them - no more here.
-
So many things have changed it's made me lazy : the
lemonade we used to drink on the porch is all an enormous
swill of memory now. I get drunk on the fumes alone.
My mother used to say to me "I'm gonna' show all you my
missing finger" - the one she lost in the war working a
Bayonne rivet machine - whenever my friends came over.
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I finally stopped her short one day and said, "Now Ma, how
can you show us something that isn't here? If what you're
saying's true." It put an end to that, and we all just kept
on going - her with her stories and me with my gun.
That multi-lingual monotone was always so much fun.
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