- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Raising a Finger to Father
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Arnold Chang—great name for a Chinese
no one in NYC could pronounce his real name
worked in a Jewish Delicatessen
on 47th St
for 20 years
Then the building came down
boss retired
Arnold set out for a warmer climate
I told him to look me up when he got to L.A.
I steered him to a great restaurant in Alhambra
famous for its special crab dinners
I knew the owner well
it is my habit to drop by late for lunch
when the clients are just about gone
I sit with Arnold and the other waiters
we eat at a communal table
gives us a chance to chat
catch up on old times,
eat some unusual pot luck dishes
not on the tourist menu
I don’t speak Mandarin, but
having a legal background
I try to advise,
Arnold translates
always some trouble brewing
I always suggest settling out of court,
never know where
justice disappears
once you get inside
You can advise, you cannot control
Hop Lu, a senior waiter, has a son
involved in a home invasion,
where thieves break in when the family is present
force them to give up their valuables
Many Asians don’t trust bank vaults
This family had an actual vault in their basement
thieves took the father down there
made him open the armored door
As the masked thieves filled their knapsacks
the father backed up
jumped past the door
kicked it shut
Imprisoning the thieves inside
Hop Lu’s son was one of the three boys
I referred Hop to a good criminal lawyer
Hop wasn’t satisfied
his son faced 8-12 years in prison.
“Can’t we pay the family to forget this,” said Hop
“In China it works that way. It’s easy.”
“We are not in China, Hop. It’s not so easy here.
Next time he wants to rob someone,
send him to Shanghai.”
Several months passed, the day of the trial
the family failed to appear
Case dismissed!
I asked Arnold what had happened
“Hop paid them off; $75,000.”
The next week Hop Lu’s son was working as a waiter
sitting to the left of me as we ate
I thought momentarily about moving my Rolex
to my right hand, didn’t
His son reached for the fish dish with his chopsticks
I noticed
his left hand was missing his pinky finger
- COMMENTS
Angelineover 10 years agoand you never let your readers down. Never! I think your greatest strength is your great skill with narrative. I prefer my poems with less telling and more showing, which tends to make them shorter and more open to various interpretations. But as I said that's a preference. I don't think this poem is as strong as the other non-erotic piece you wrote about the woman selling street food, maybe this one gets overwhelmed with all the details--there's a lot to the story. Maybe the other poem had more rhetorical flourishes that appealed to me... But hell it's still an easy 5. :-D
Ashesh9over 10 years agoIt sounds blood-curdlin' to modern sensibilities ( includin' to yours truly)but in India such transactions were considered reasonable before Pax Britannica made an appearance but of course when the Brits were asked to leave our country they tried to misappropriate Blood Money by way of the Jallianwallah Baug genocide !?!?
twelveooneover 10 years agoThis is where you are at, there are not many wasted words here, the timing is getting down. You are not wasting time on rhyme. The problem is this is good prose. Not a problem for me, good prose is better than piss poetry. Possible rewrite example
Then the building came down
boss retired
Arnold set out for a warmer climate
The building came down when the owner retired
and Arnold set off for a warmer climate (shore?)
liked the bit with the Roldex tighten slighly
