Mental Gymnastics (Rev.)

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Tomorrow I’ll say goodbye to my parents
as they leave for Messina; I am going to
record the funny song from dad’s tape,
Chris Blignaut singing about the baboon’s
face stuck in the ape’s wireless – an
ant-filled bully-beef tin

The tin’s too tight so he gets bitten; I love its
absurd comedy, want to have it with me when
sister leaves taking mom and dad – it may be
a good thing – talking to them I discover they
do not share memories but at least my dad
remembers

We were babies – he had us fall asleep in
a row on the carpet, mom doesn’t recall
she’s forgotten – claims she never knew
in the first place, living her own life
before we were born; I must guard
against my need to withdraw –

Remain focused – people discuss mundane
events and I tumble into mental gymnastics;
tomorrow I’ll ask my dad about his memories,
of the time when he was intimate with the local
Mafia – I want to record his unique life for
posterity;

As for mother – when I ask about our early
years she says she does not recall; she’s right,
her spirit was absent, she abhorred home life –
I make sure that home is where my heart is,
though it is not easy for me to keep my feet
on the ground...
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