Four Poems

by Mike McHone

There’s Always a Fight

 

There’s always a fight in every bar. Maybe two guys will roll in from the night

and have it out, or maybe it’s the fight you have with the memories floating in

the ice of your drink, threatening to Titanic your soul with every sip, or the old

guy to your left treating your eardrum like a speedbag with every dumbass thing

he says about women and immigrants, or, simply the match on the TV in the corner

behind the cobwebs and the dust. Maybe the fat guy to your right, giving head to his

ninth beer, will mouth off to the woman beside him, and she’ll slap him with a palm

and, later, a divorce. Isn’t it always some palindrome of a fight between the swirling

blades of a ceiling fan and the stink of an old man’s voice, between an ice cube and

an autopsied marriage? Aren’t we all waiting for a bell, hoping for a belt, praying for

a standing eight, punching towards a standing o, hoping the beer-soaked towel doesn’t

get tossed?

Opium

 

as it seeps in

every worry dies

 

they say it’ll kill you

 

 please

 

while there’s still time

Cassino

 

He said the Brits came to Cassino

and locked up and killed every last German within days

 

Young men with young skin in uniforms and coats

and hats and guns, tanks and jeeps after they destroyed the abbey

 

One night, after the liberation, he heard a girl screaming

and the sound of men laughing down the street from where he lived

while music played and soldiers sang and clanked mugs in cafés

like the bells of Monte Cassino before the bombs

 

“Pretty things,” he said. “They looked like glitter when they fell.”

 

They found the girl the next day. They buried her the day after.

 

He sat in his Michigan chair and told me and my friend, his grandson

these things in broken English 

 

“The Germans were always quiet,” he said. “Never bothered us.

Never said anything to us.”

 

He never heard that kind of singing or laughter

until he was free

No Man Tells a Man

 

no man tells a man how sharp

your toenails become

when you’re past 40

 

no one talks about the hair in the ears

or the weird bruises that crop up

out of nowhere

 

or that it takes twice as long

to piss and how it’s best to not wear

khakis in case you dribble after

you put it away

 

no one tells you your erections look

like dying flowers or the fact that the blonde

at the pharmacy has as much chance of

stirring you as your grandmother

 

no one talks about the loss of friends

or the loss of love for music, film, books

food, drink, sex, walks, for sitting and

staring at the sky, for dreaming

 

for daydreaming, for jokes, laughing

smiling, enjoying a sunset, enjoying

a sunrise, for everything

 

yes, there are commercials for meds

but we tune those out, don’t we?

 

yes, we can talk to our doctors, but

we don’t, do we?

 

there are the shrinks, but we don’t

visit them. there are the sisters and

cousins, but they have their own lives

and their lives, like all lives, crush them

as they crush all of us

 

no one tells a man how heavy the weight

is, only that he can handle it, can carry

it, should never complain about it

 

should feel embarrassed if he says anything

about it, should be ashamed if he feels

the strain of anything about it

 

no man tells a man to lay it down, at least

once in a while

 

the only thing a man tells another man is that

the burden must be carried, and his end

can only be decided by time

 

never by personal decision, only by

cancer, accident, war, murder, or the like

 

to quit the game is to lose the game

and the only way to win the game is to stay

in the game

 

and that, above all, is the most important

thing about being a man: to win every game

 

no man tells a man what it’s like to be a man

unless they’re lying during a eulogy and then

 

don’t we all love a man?

 

call him hero, father, brother, husband, and

most importantly, a hard worker?

 

No one loves a man, only the memory

of a man when the man himself is a memory

 

No man ever talks to another man, but then

no man would listen anyway

BIO: Mike McHone's work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, the Anthony Award, and the Best of the Net Award. A Derringer Award winner, he has appeared in numerous outlets including Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, Playboy, Dark Yonder, and elsewhere..

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