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| money, music, colombian, quotes, 20jazzfunkgreats, shirts from hell, fiction, warner home video, frank sivero, ha, songs, tv shows, bud, urban, pete & dud, merchandising, nigerian, pot, canadian journalism, goldie lookin chain your mother's got a penis song lyrics, the tyee, flicks, | My Ephraim and his Fatima, man and wife, Jew and Muslim, that’s how I raised them, the man said. Me and my late Olga raised them to tolerate, not to ride trains without tickets, he lamented. And you wonder about the relationship between his late wife’s tolerance left for pain, his tolerance of a daughter-in-law’s headscarf, your tolerance for the stories replaying themselves with a hard cock in hand. And only because he has stopped talking about serial fucking on the house’s various couches—somehow now this word tolerance left seems like a noble word, a left word you have hung your coat of hope on as a lonely homosexual—right then you want to hold the man, in a selfish way, like you can find some part of him to keep in your wallet, somewhere to bury your thoughts along the side of his face and neck where they will rise from within and someday make sense. |
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| Then the man suggests you turn over. It’s then that you spot tv shows a photograph of his son, a young man hanging on the side of a train carriage. He sports a tv shows T-shirt worn over a sweatshirt, and his shoulders slope. Over lunch you’ve learned that this son rides trains up and down California. My son the hobo, the man said. You always thought of hobos as men whose wives had left them, men in stinking overcoats and dirt in the creases of their tv shows faces and tennis shoes. The man said he is sure his son does not take drugs, and you hoped the man was gaining some solace from that assumption. You learned more about the son, who looks like the front man of a Sunset Boulevard band. To your surprise you discovered the son—Damien? Josh? You try to remember if the man has mentioned a name—is a Berkeley dropout with a Muslim wife (the man draped a paper napkin over his head at this point), who mans a flower kiosk at a Los Angeles mall. |
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