The Immortal Life of Folly

Happa.

My dad had eyes like a Japanese character

played by a Chinese actor (it’s OK; it’s 

confusing; look at Mifune) until he grew a

beard in the 60s. Something happened�"he 

got fat, and my mom did too, they both 

started drinking�"and he repaired lotto

machines for a while because my mother,

married to this guy or not, held me

in her womb like the peaks of Mt. Fuji

cradle the sun in the swollen morning 

sky, bloodied in light.

He’s a good guy, I really think,

but he says that when he retires, he wants

to leave New Jersey and live on an island

without any black people. I quietly remind

him that his white trash brother had

pawned off the katana promised to me in my 

grandfather’s will to pay for his exotic dancer

wife and her

child support and her

fake-a*s tits. 

If angels live among us, and they don’t, 

then they’re not a very reliable casting panel because 

the gene pool doesn’t appear to know s**t

about the fragile eloquence of shame;

I don’t quite fit the bill, but goddamn, I am close

enough to every hot young thing with a shotgun.

Reviews

[Trevor Jay Bloodworth]

What, exactly, is this? What is this about?