From the Fishouse

(After Patrick Rosal)

To laugh at weaker boys (or at least the less sharp-tongued)
to kick ball till the moon rose
or something vital bled – we lived
To wait like predator
for the first note of a slow jam
to grind ourselves into the wall
with a pretty girl between us
and make sure our boys were watching

We were tropical suave post-colonial oil money niggahs
and we had to do well – in all things
in Latin
in the First Queen’s Royal College Scout band
in talking shit
and especially in football
so we practiced memorizing where
our defenders were
so we could look the other way
as we went past them
cuz it was only cool
if you made it seem effortless

we were sophisticates like that
looking for immortality in the tales of others
and most of our friends were still alive

To buy two sno-cone from George
whose rickety cart parked outside
the school each day
To have the cones stacked with extra syrup and condensed milk
To gather around the cart
because George always had sensible shit to say

To follow that with the hottest spiciest
doubles from the doubles-man behind the cafeteria
who built two multi-level homes
off the profits from our purchases
To laugh at that irony

To pick on the faggot boys
because we wanted our fathers to think we were men

To join the new dance-craze revolution
To stop traffic on Frederick Street
just to see Doc, Scientist and Froggie
spin on vinyl, pop-lock, head-stand
electric-boogie, dead-man

To sit on the steps
of the downtown shopping plaza
and stare at the beauty of our women
To believe at sixteen
that they were our women

To welcome satellite TV and music videos
like it was God
because who can see the future anyway
It was 1984
and we were busy looking good
mimicking everything we saw

To go watch Gip play better than the rest of us
to see him collect the ball on the outside
of his left foot count the on-rushing defender’s footsteps
and slide the ball deftly through his legs
while looking the other way
effortless like that

Our bodies hadn’t begun to betray us yet
Kirk and Gregory and Rudy and Peter were still alive
Dave still had his legs
and the worst thing wasn’t not doing well
only seeming like you were trying too hard