Wishing I wasn't Here
One thing you can do in life
Is drink while your relatives fight
Another thing you can do in life
Is go on home and not spend the night
Leave the pizza and the gas-station chicken
‘Cause you’re always on the clock and it’s always ticking
And time is all we ever really have
Fifty years of sullen marriage
Is an odd achievement to mark
Like giving medals for breathing
Or winning poker in the dark
Cousin Ronnie bleating “Through the Years”
I knew I should’ve stopped at seven beers
Here I am in this smoky old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
“Quite a tan he’s got” said Pop
“He’s Guatemalan” said Anne
Pop shrugged and lit another
And said “I knew he was Mexican”
And then that awful silence
The one that feels so close to violence
And violence is a kind of sacrament
Glenn said “What is wrong with you?
Can’t you ever just shut your mouth?”
Pop just looked right past him
“Don’t wanna hear that in my house”
“It ain’t been yours since mama died
And you signed it over and we all took sides”
Here I am in this drunken old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
Bama’s beating Tennessee
“Y’all, the coffee is almost done”
Pop blew smoke at the ceiling
And flicked his cigarette at his son
And then Glenn flung himself at Pop
Knocked the kids’ table over
Someone yelled “STOP!”
Nervous hands separated them
“I knew we never should have come”
Glenn spat at his haggard old man
“Your granddaughter wanted to be here”
And he took her by the hand
And just like that they were out the door
As the aunts and the mamas cleaned up the floor
Here I am in this angry old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
Here I am in this fearful old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
© 2024 John Brocato
Is drink while your relatives fight
Another thing you can do in life
Is go on home and not spend the night
Leave the pizza and the gas-station chicken
‘Cause you’re always on the clock and it’s always ticking
And time is all we ever really have
Fifty years of sullen marriage
Is an odd achievement to mark
Like giving medals for breathing
Or winning poker in the dark
Cousin Ronnie bleating “Through the Years”
I knew I should’ve stopped at seven beers
Here I am in this smoky old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
“Quite a tan he’s got” said Pop
“He’s Guatemalan” said Anne
Pop shrugged and lit another
And said “I knew he was Mexican”
And then that awful silence
The one that feels so close to violence
And violence is a kind of sacrament
Glenn said “What is wrong with you?
Can’t you ever just shut your mouth?”
Pop just looked right past him
“Don’t wanna hear that in my house”
“It ain’t been yours since mama died
And you signed it over and we all took sides”
Here I am in this drunken old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
Bama’s beating Tennessee
“Y’all, the coffee is almost done”
Pop blew smoke at the ceiling
And flicked his cigarette at his son
And then Glenn flung himself at Pop
Knocked the kids’ table over
Someone yelled “STOP!”
Nervous hands separated them
“I knew we never should have come”
Glenn spat at his haggard old man
“Your granddaughter wanted to be here”
And he took her by the hand
And just like that they were out the door
As the aunts and the mamas cleaned up the floor
Here I am in this angry old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
Here I am in this fearful old house
Wishing I wasn’t here
© 2024 John Brocato