telling a twelve year
old
that my wife is the
incredible hulk
because he’s always around me at the job
hanging on my every word
he wants to know what my favorite color is
why i wear my hair long
he points out daily that there’s gray in my beard
because i can’t have an adult conversation
when he’s in the building
last week he heard me call my supervisor
an incompetent ass and threatened to tell him
because he heard me tell another co-worker
about my wife’s radiation
i had to tell him that she was the incredible hulk
it made me feel somewhat better to tell this tall tale
because it made radiation not seem so bad
of course he’d never seen my wife angry
while i have some vivid memories of her ire
maybe she is the incredible hulk and i just didn’t realize
it
i think about last week
when i told her we should just buy a gun
and put a nice exclamation mark on this year
but he brings me back to earth
he wants to know why my wife is getting radiation
he wants to know if this is why i’ve seemed angry all summer
because he’s always around me at the job
listening to every goddamned word that i have to say
reading my emails when i’m not looking
catching me in the office when i’m looking down
or staring off into space
he can tell that i’m lying
about this and about how i feel all of the time
because tall tales are just great big lies
and besides what twelve year old
believes that the hulk is real?
10.07.14
okay...so this is the last of the cancer-related poems that i've had backlogged. tomorrow is back to the typical...well...whatever it is i've been wasting my time doing here since 2008.
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