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Fear in a Denim Jacket
2004-06-21 - 1:21 a.m.


before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

Jimmy R.  In the end, you came to say goodbye to me

a free man, in a denim jacket, you sat in my chair, cocky, scared.

And I had been there through it all for you,

when we couldnt talk to you because your dad beat your brother into the hospital

with an aluminum base-ball bat

when you got so angry, you swung on staff,

cold-cocking a guy I didnt really like anyway.

and as for me, I dont know how many times I had restrained you

only to tease you later, not about the restraints or anything serious,

just messing with you.

"C'mon, Mr. Argentum" you'd say, "I gotsa' pee"

"You what?"  I'd ask, after ignoring you the first fifteen times

"I gotsa' pee."

"Oh.  Right."

And I'd pause, sitting in the cabin, ticking away through the late night paperwork

of running misbegotten, forgotten children's lives and just look at you,

your big bulbous head, bulging eyes, speaking so often of fear of everything

despite the bravado you held, or the stories you told,

I knew the secret, your secret

and you wouldnt admit it now if I told you

but I knew you were a scared child,

making it however you could,

3 hots and a cot, they say

better than getting your ass kicked daily by your old man.

"C'moan!  I gotsa' pee."

"Right, right."  And I wouldnt move, not a lick towards the bathroom.

The times you got wound up, deliberately not following line-criteria to piss your staff off,

and I know could hear my sarcasm down the trail,

"Oh fer CHRISSAKE, JIMMY, DONT put your TOES together,

WE could go have LUNCH then.  WHATEVER you do DONT put your TOES together."

And you'd drop your head and smile, while the other staff were itching at a hair trigger to restrain you,

"Ahight, Mr. Argentum." and you'd put them together.

Six foot four manchild, skinny as a rake,

talk with such savvy about the streets and this and that,

but babble like a 2 year old child when talking about your emotions.

You sat in my chair, electric with fear of the possibilities of freedom.

I gave you a half-hearted hug, numb from all the bullshit,

callous to life in the RTC, and hustled you out the door.

I had more paperwork to do.

I was just as miserable as you.


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