author's note: don't own anything
Father
Coming home from art school and the grocery store where I would sleep in the corner, the rain would patter on the awning and against the bricks on the other side of the wall and I would draw or sleep and Kono-san would doze in the back room and sometimes wake and come in and rap the desk with the girlie magazine rolled in a baton and then go back to sleep and I mumbling an excuse and seeing no need, lying back to sleep. And then there was Saeko and she so older so much like Papa before she died and he had the bottle-opener pendant, more motherly than Mama at some time. Saeko always having the answer we're short for dinner oh, that's no problem she can pay out Takashi-sama always forking out money so Sae-tan can show up in med school and get an exam paper and write a textbook and pass the class that afternoon and look smart and smart doing it and then support that weird blue mess in the corner, scribbling his badly drawn landscapes, all he's good for is corny postcards, and we should settle down Hiro-kun and never mind Papa's so old-fashioned wears the robe and Panama every day of his life and makes Mama wear her kimono, would have her paint her face like those old woodcuts I never forged never dreamed I would do them justice anyway
Saeko seeing that pregnant lady one time in the park and the young couple and toddler young Ikuko was it? looked like her and saying Oh Hiro wouldn't you look great like that a business suit and me in a crummy polo and Papa's old work pants Come on come on just a feel and I saying we should wait why not a lifetime of commitments just like that Yoko Ikumi Hana Haruhi Haruko Haruka and the girl downstairs and the girl upstairs and across the way and Saeko so like a flower a beauty in ice and that time Golden Week taking four hours to do a study and Takashi or sometimes the psycho coming in from some meeting and going out to another or some community thing or some high trust and Saeko buttoning up the blouse and me with a wad of charcoal in my back pocket in my mouth like taffy or in the corner just talking oh this another of my landscapes want to see No why don't you give that up and get on the bus or something you've got drive if nothing else.
Saeko's graduation and all her friends looking away. Her pregnancy and Takashi hitting the ceiling, his open hand and my lip face stinging and Saeko my only friend in the world only friend in the house, and pretty soft then but having to sit to eat with those faces. Art all day and then Ami born and those few years Hiro makes a fine housewife, at least and the witch saying nothing the whole house dishonored and her finger painting perfect profile of Hiro like the Dylan album cover And thank god the witch dead and Takashi flat on his back and Saeko comes home and look what I drew it's Daddy and she snatches it up and full blue head even then back of her hands her nails shone in the ambience of the floor lamp and Ami sideways in the blink of an eye and the vase all over the art in the living room and Saeko's vein showing Look what you did to her dammit and I nothing to say and she says No more Mizunos dammit one's enough if you stay we go Ami wailing Maaamaa mama and she quieting her and hides Ami from Hiro the beard anyway crazy little boy blue.
And that whole year I don't remember just blank and wake up to a lot of beercans and joints and joints no bill though thank god and a crummy San Francisco apartment and then the soup kitchen until Father Abramowicz had to shoo me away but how great his art is and the little girl longing in the casket and the weird comics dirty smut doujin about Sailor N and none to support and why the hell didn't I do this earlier and Ami that's why but hell I ruined her life or Saeko ruined mine or hers or Saeko's and Ed shows up lots of talent maybe he's the daughter son I never had and he wanted art and the McNeals never caring what he did just don't blow up the house or shoot up the school and me wanting to impress that pink haired girl and thinking if only I'd do a study some day her and saxophone by window on rainy afternoon and her calling me a dirty old man didn't do anything well Ed's there at least would he serve in a picture I wonder he can draw in a flash anything has to be weird though the boy's like R. Crumb only better