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old dog new tricks


salaryman

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Drinking in Hokkaido once a while ago.

Spot was small, tucked in an alley.

Dark and empty, but it was open. and warm.

Sat at the counter.

Drink.

Drink.

Smoke.

Drink.

Drink.

Drink.

Leave the bar,

Drunk.

See an old man in the alley.

Just wrinkles and bones,

wrapped in an indigo yukata.

Haori is a perfect fit.

I don't smile.

Neither does he.

Slight bow, eyes to the ground.

"Good evening." I say too loudly.

"Good evening."

His voice falls flat on the snow.

"Aren't you cold grandpa?"

Smiles.

"No, I was born here."

I realize I'm exhaling buckets of cloudy booze breath,

and that I'm freezing already.

"Keep moving" he says,

"You haven't drunk enough."

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On my older sister's 18th birthday

she stacked up her envelopes,

counted her bills.

and called her friend Maggie

who was trouble with wheels.

They picked out two flowers

one purple, one pink

and went into the city,

to have drawn on their backs in ink.

Came home all smiles.

With a half bloody bandage.

Look. Look what I got.

LOOK.

Mom's eyes rolled for days.

and Dad sulked in silence.

She showed her friends.

She showed the neighbors.

She showed the mailman,

and every

one

else.

And then, on Sunday,

she showed the asian grandma.

"Tattoos are for street people, and prostitutes.

Put that away, I'm eating."

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White grandma had an expensive cat once.

It was a purebred beast;

obscenely good looking,

but useless because you never saw it.

Also, it was pure evil.

Wicked, really. And destroyed everything in its path.

It once scratched my infant cousins eyes out for giggling too loudly.

It bit my sister in the ankle and wouldn't let go for 8 months.

It murdered a fox on the front porch, after it was de-clawed.

It would go ballistic on christmas trees, house plants, or anything

shiny, happy, or breathing its air.

Still, Grandma loved the cat.

Fed it bluefin in a crystal dish.

She showered the beast in pricey toys that it destroyed or ignored,

She had it shampooed in a flowery french concoction once a week,

and she told everyone who would listen that it was the nicest animal in the

whole

wide

world.

But one day when, for the first time ever, in probably 300 years,

she was late feeding it,

the cat pissed on her new down comforter out of spite.

Grandma called us over to the house.

"Get rid of it. Today.

I want that thing out my sight, forever."

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