Camera For The Smile

Marvin K. Mooney

Decked out bowtie suited and car driving fast through market waving cigarette fingers, horn honking blinker blinking brakes braking chandeliers. Then one scream, two scream, three scream through window I go. Sorry made the bed and left the crumbs to lean on, to be on, to one-two-three shatter.

No one asks for speed reasons when lung burst looms and no more parties. Just drive fast. Blood more better looks on cold grey sidewalks than in warm blue veins on television.

Badger in the checkout line a woman red-haired dressed in medical scrubs. Diagnosis? Help! Diagnosis! Put keys in soft off with one sluggish ignition. Soda sip. Prognosis: blue sky and pancreatic lemonades. Mother nowhere to be seen. Switch off the censors. Your instincts, trust. Me, Father told. Choices right choices, I'd made how many? I made many. Not few. Not many. Not me not lie not lie not me.

But me not ten out of nine times true wrong choices I make. Pushed my Sister where we knew lived three hungry bears into the mouth of a cave. To do my own projects, Father not Dad trusted me never nor let borrow nor touch nor have conversation.

Tattooed and bulletproof this porch invisible. Dogs see or hear cats. Mice and antelope ignore. Through binoculars see bikinis on thin women spread legged and wide open car wrecks are simply unavoidable. Frontal full on action, tanned thighs! Reaction? Also men muscled and greased-up too are exposed. Meet dashboard dipstick deadhead drip drop the elevated hard on.

The pipedream mentioned never once did the neurosurgeon. Full on guts in buckets aiding sorrow and abetting my tomorrow—this is the what of the what of hope no hope no fear.

But not Father, who the man I call Dad plus never did I say his real name fully. Like archipelagos or salacious. And fury. All face red and sweating. Bulging. Arms clarinet bodies forged aluminum arms and arms and a tiny mouth-trumpet, as if not Dad, Father, meant only polite to be such a disaster. Never to visit. Knowing not what the meaning is—only.

Proper distance when if I could how many times total she policed did my mother the scene like Kong, king of gorillas. Forget spankings. Nightsticks and Tazerguns, run for the kitchen. Eat cereal and school scramble or clubhouse hide or frolic or flounder or hide. Lock the imaginary door. Here is the where of the fortress.

Besides the paint filled basement long ago. Clutching yarn ends drowning. Select the most locker room unjust spit in your face indecency. Then times it times a million. And just drive fast to make the sunrise fold down the awning of forget.

Where now I am on sunshine walking hallways filled with doors. Place it Midwest to water separating Canada from my perch. Where ghosts may not seek me, here I am unnoticed. What doctors say nothing in the end means only the beginning has begun and nothing cheats death whether begs the whole earth in unison like wave global, like sunlight bounces back to God, bounces laughter like hot air balloons. Whose proof is what most goes unnoticed to Mother. So confusing is truth. So immortal. So fling far from the proof the truth unnoticed. Unspoken. As a tree is my car in the broken of night. Goodbye tomorrow, goodbye tonight.

No more concerts after cow-tipping, crawdads for supper. To work take thermos soup full and hot. Maybe muffin or biscuit or umbrella for fruit eating behavior: a peach, a pear, a chain-smoking disingenuous pinch on the cheek from however many unnamed sources. Try organizing shards of story get slivers of glass everywhere. Make sense make leads follow many, many.

Mother, if the flimflam man allows it. How heartbroken is the furniture? Look. See sad faces in seat cushions, quilts on smolder; shadows on seatbacks thin long giraffe neck, only pineapples against ray guns on foreign planets. Sticky notes. Forgone appetites pressed from the hammock to turn a mirror into a party of blisters. Hard knob slicing juniper trees with action. Detox. Get clean. Arrest the century and break the tangled throat of a coma with a tissue. Wish a woman for too much dough and after work walk and about talk, nothing more, and when off break we to our way go individual, not one exchange of kiss or hug. Not one glitch brainwave sex part electrocuted. Mother is below. Monster is the sinister. Ship abandoned. Book stack knee-dive deep into a tropical climate: cloud lips chapped the bosoms whisper, sweet tongue, miss me, never mind the pictures.

If luck was a coin in my pocket I would spend it.

What desire you things and more? Messages torrid back and forth whenever the lights go on and on and off. Sick? I am not. It is flicker. Clear. Where daily grubs squiggle in the earth I pick for church makes money off my Mother. In the rafters hiding, looking through binoculars: Father not Dad and from school two girls naked across him straddled one on his face and one on his lap, one grinding one bouncing. Pictures I take, I take many. Two pockets blackmail-filled and bulging only to find: proof? Never believed nothing called proof did my Mother. Even after Father, not Dad, fucked all the girls and got them pregnant.

Another day at the coffin. Soggy crackers. In mouth tubes like sucking sound. Too much weak good luck cartoon mistakes for channel switching. Up dries the visitors. Weapons on them every one. My Sister blackened soot monster, oil-stained hair buzzed and clothing permission. In the blouse folds strawberries. Yes from me. Yes.

Only to love if a road is this. Which fast down I am driving. Most builds yet in layers, rather timber as a gift not a door. In my drink slip drops of fentanyl. The whodunit car wreck. Wicked poor face to face meeting with my Sister in the hour after murder gets an award. The glass and chug it. Mouth wipe sleeve stained purple from the grape juice. Wash it down, don't spit it out. Off with the gas tank. Mock up no one knowing television everyone. In my most hearty echo say no not no not never never more.

Here is disappearing candy from the grocery store. Minus surveillance cameras or detectives of privacy dancing snooping rummaging the garbage of my secrecy.

How many in my ear whispered hall of getaways? Atlanta? Why make found glowing ruby, as glass shattered glass on the front page of a rainy day and hard loud bursts of ink called long distance everywhere? Or else a newspaper of night like all hours.

Hands pray as wheels squeal, rubber melts in fire. Skull busts skin peels chestnut broken skeleton. Jaw cracks ribs like ice cube trays and folding-chair legs and wow all the rumors. Grows wings my tailbone, elbows and ankles bloom tiny fireworks. For this assemblage, this apology: Sorry fountain. Sorry future. I am no longer alone.

Marvin K. Mooney?