October 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Five
Jason Floyd Williams
like father, like son.
(The relatability of stories.)

I was telling my dad that
one of my best decisions,
next to getting married, was
not hitting that Priest when
he over-stepped the
community-service boundaries
& wanted me to fold his
skivvies in his bedroom.
I didn't punch him, I just left.
I did, later-on, drink 10 beers
& shovel 2 tons of gravel
to get the mad out.

My ol man told me you can
always walk away.
Sometimes that's the best thing.
"Like the time I was sittin'
at this junior-maffia round-table,
with these guys quizzin' me
about where I buy my drugs.
I was stoned at the time,
that helped, but there was this
gorilla poundin' his fist into
his hand, like he was
tenderizin' steaks.
Then this stripper I knew came
over to me and whispered,
'Bob, these guys probably won't hurt
you, but they did cause a man
to go crazy last week.'
So I just stood-up & walked-out.
Though, I did duck behind all the trees
for the next mile
until I reached my car."