End Game or Boys Will Be Boys

I can still feel
the full weight of him
sitting on my chest
pinning me to the ground
so that I could
barely move and
barely breathe

What had begun
as a game
as a contest of strength
between two school chums
had somehow escalated
into a contest of wills
and into a contest
of  brute domination

His yellow stained teeth
stretched into a
sardonic grin
as he exploited his
position of power
pinning me to the mat
like a butterfly
stuck on fly paper

I twisted and struggled
and I arched my back and
flailed my legs
trying to free myself
from being so
thoroughly humiliated
and embarrassed
and conquered
by someone
who had the sheer
physical strength
to render me
incapacitated
helpless
vulnerable
to be rendered so
utterly helpless
and at the mercy
of a stronger brute
who just wanted to
so thoroughly
embarrass and humiliate me
(this once erstwhile best friend)
that the thought that
the end result of this
mock gladiatorial battle
could mean the end
of years of budding friendship
did not matter to him

I could smell his foul breath
and feel the drops of his perspiration
hitting my face
while he laughed at me and
mocked me
for my alleged girly ways
and my alleged sissy ways
while he showed me
in no uncertain terms
what it meant
to be a  real
manly man
a 100 percent
red blooded
all American
football playing
fag hating
woman hating
motherhood and cherry pie hating
red neck loving
skin head loving
nazi loving
self- jew hating
pimply faced
fat bellied
pre-teen
miscreant and
all around
miserable excuse
for a human being

I stopped struggling
I went limp
I cried uncle
I allowed myself
to shed tears
all to no avail

I cursed my tormentor
This boy who was
my next door neighbor
and until today
my erstwhile best friend
while thoughts of revenge
played out
various scenarios
in my head
I may even have
passed out

When I came back
to my senses
he was gone
I looked down and saw
that I had soiled my pants
in more ways than one

I struggled to my feet
and dusted myself off
and I literally licked
my wounds

It was game over
and that’s all she wrote

All in all
it had not been
a very good day

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

A Pain In My Groin

It hurts me
this pain
in my groin
this mysterious pain
that just
suddenly appeared
hot to the touch
painful to the touch
fine one day
lame the next

This mysterious pain
has hobbled me and
humbled me
I self medicate
but it refuses
to go away

I dragged my butt
to the MD finally
(after stalling for two weeks
in the hope the affliction
would heal of its own accord –
it did not)

So, Doc, what’s the verdict
I asked
after being physically examined
and poked and
made to turn my head
and cough
(flashback to my Army
induction days)

But the good doctor
just shrugged his shoulders
Dunno, he said
Not sure, he said
Could be this or
it could be that

What to do then
I asked
hoping that
Doctor Lee
had an inkling
as to how to proceed
It is a helpless feeling
standing naked
in the busy intake office
with dozens of other patients
waiting outside the door
for the good doctor’s attention

Let’s send you for
a CAT SCAN
at Jeannes Hospital and
see what they come up with there
then we’ll have a better idea
as to how to proceed

Reasonable
Logical
Practical
More time to waste

My guess is that it’s a hernia
this I gathered from
researching the internet
or it could be
something else
something much worse
I stop myself from
further speculation

I will wait my turn
and I will submit myself
to the modern age
of medical science
I will do as I am told
I will try to be less arrogant
and more humble

In the meantime
I self medicate
and wait
until the clock
ticks off the time
to my appointment

And I try to go about
my business as usual
occupying my days
with the tedious
little chores
that make up my
orderly and routine
existence
tick tock
tick tock
TCOB
until it is
finally my turn
to ride the
silver gurney
It is not a ride
that I am looking
forward to

Stay tuned!

I will let you know
how it all turns out!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, 2012

It's Not A Bed

It's not a bed
It's a battlefield
It's not sleep
It's a wrestling match
It's not love
It's a test of wills
A pox!
A pox
I say!
On all your
homeless houses!
eh?

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, 2012

Non Basta Una Vita!

We have a saying
in my small
circle of friends
Non basta una vita!
meaning
do not waste your life!
meaning
try to make
your life
count for something
in some way
some shape or
some form
Non basta una vita!

To the casual passerby
it sounds like a
no brainer
How is it even possible
to waste your life
when the simple act
of breathing in and
breathing out
accomplishes
nearly all that is
required for a life
to perpetuate itself
from moment to moment
from saga to saga
from adventure to misadventure

Why do we need to bother
trying to add
another overlay of
patina to the brickpile?
Why must we
feel compelled to
take the next step
to insist that
life have meaning
as well?

Perhaps it is
the life-force itself
that compels us

Today we mourn the loss
and celebrate the life
of Dave Brubeck
the jazz aficionado
(1920-2012)
whose intellectual approach
to American jazz
broke new ground and helped to
elevate the genre to new
heights of
international acclaim
“It’s all about rhythm and percussion”
he said
“The first and last sound 
that we ever hear
is the beating of our own hearts”

Non basta una vita!
R.I.P. Dave Brubeck!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012