My Almost-Stepfather, Younger than Me, and the Basketball Game We Lost against Five Amerasian Prostitutes
So Mike and Mom met right around her birthday.
Her forty-fifth, while I was twenty-three
and Mike was only twenty-one. She’d made
a fair amount of money editing
for Microsoft. She spent it on a pair
of adjacent apartments, where she stayed
along with Amerasian refugees,
the left-behinds of soldiers in Vietnam.
She trained them all to call her Mom.
My girlfriend at the time must have been so
confused by all the hues when asked to take
our “family photo.” I could not explain.
One day Mom said the other refugees
were picking on poor Mike because he was
hermaphroditic, male and female parts.
But then she said he and she were in love
and they moved to a townhouse of their own.
He shoved a tiny diamond in my face.
I think it was an earring that she’d stuffed
into a ring, and he said Marry. Oof.
Soon I moved to Spokane for graduate school.
The news said Seattle cops had busted up
an Amerasian prostitution ring,
and I knew that my mom would get involved.
I rode the Greyhound out, and sure enough:
she’d filled the townhouse with those prostitutes.
They challenged me and Mike in basketball,
a game of two-on-five. We held our own
until Mike benched himself, and I had no one
to pass to, which, I think, works pretty well
as metaphor of sorts for all those years
I scratched my head and tried to make some sense
of something senseless. I do not recall
the final score, but those five whores sure wore
me down and schooled me on that sweaty court.
Mike lost his index finger while at work
at Midas Muffler and he said “Maybe
I won’t work there no more.” And yet he did.
One day a Midas colleague with a truck
helped Mike move out. The air was thick. The air
was always thick. She told Mike’s co-worker
“You’re breaking up a happy home.” To which
he said “Mike asked for help.” Hey Mike, you were
A Motherfucker, but I wish you well.
I never blamed you. Not one bit. In fact
I’m glad you made it out almost intact.
14 thoughts on "My Almost-Stepfather, Younger than Me, and the Basketball Game We Lost against Five Amerasian Prostitutes"
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I love every bit of this. It’s got a gritty feel to it, and in a good way. It’s raw. It’s honest. It’s a great write. Thank you for sharing this with us.
We haven’t met, but I am very grateful to you for all of your supportive comments this month. These poems (the ones about my mom) aren’t coming easily, and I’ve been wanting to write them for a long time.
Wowsers, that title!
love: I rode the Greyhound out,
The air was thick. The air
was always thick.
I love how deep you are mining this lode of anger and sadness and sharing them with us as is, not all prettied up.
Thanks for giving yet another of my poems a good, close read, Pam. I appreciate you.
Tom, I appreciated the tenderness married to frankness in your poem today. Also, numbers kept popping up which I found engaging. Thank you.
Thanks Manny.
I also adored the family palette as “hues”
These Amerisians were indeed a variety of hues. Their moms were Vietnamese, but their dads ran the gamut, all shades of American men.
Well, that definitely wins the prize for the Best Title of a Poem on LexPoMo, Ever.
I guess it goes to show that even bad times can be interspersed with delightful and hilarious moments like this one.
Glad Mike made it out in time.
Thanks Kevin. I did enjoy writing that long title. The poem itself is in blank verse, except for the closing couplet.
This poem is deep with story and detail. I love the repetition and break of “The air was thick. The air/was always thick.” it adds some weight and an ineffable tone I can’t name–but appreciate.
Thanks Shaun!
great memoir poem of so much and many layered.
Thanks Linda.