Today is brother Frank's birthday. Ludwig Von Beethoven's as well. We are all getting heavier. Like Beethoven's Fifth. Older. Deeper. Only his corpus is frittering away. But Frank can still place a Florida Gator Head sticker on my car, as a tiny, miniscule practical joke.
That was a sign that Georgia would lose to Georgia Tech that day. Frank is to blame. Frank is the Jonah to be thrown overboard and swallowed by the whale.
If it were me, it would be the Flint River and some mighty bass. Or a catfish, dragging me on the bottom. The mud painting my body. My corpulent body flowing from the trickle in Clayton County, all the way down to Bainbridge and Apalachicola Bay. A slow deliverance to the oyster beds I crave. I am Brer Rabbit. Throw me in that briarpatch, brer fox.
Frank, alas, lives near the ocean. So we can throw his aging carcass in the Atlantic and let the whales swimming along the seashore pluck him from the water and give him comfort and sanctuary in their bellies.
Whose belly will it be? Happy Birthday, little brother. Enjoy your gatorhead stickers.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment