Type O Negative

mama’s james dean

20 mama’s james dean i suppose he looked like james dean but chinoy when he was a young man before renal failure before his own poisons killed him he shiny pomade shellac pompadour & 1964 polyester sweater vest sewed in short men are perfect perfectly formed fingers, small hands symmetrical trunk legs short but well-proportioned doll faces cool pool hall chuckle all his own as if it were all a joke & even my tías my tías who wanted him killed said he knew how to dance the filipino in him, they claimed proudly it was the chinese blood that made him cruel there is a photograph luau party & tiki idol drinks lit cigarettes & colgate laughter the table centerpiece pineapple-mallow-hot dog kabobs spiked into a split melon carcass christ’s crown a crowd watches on mama a head taller than him dons a hula dancer’s long wig & mumu wide smile & cat’s eye specs stiff perspiring bovine eyes fixed on papa a dung happy fly orbiting around her head thrown back laughing fingers in mid-snap hips sway papa swore i was conceived that night 21 i am 6 when i win the barrio carnival’s junior dance competition that’s jaime’s son! papa’s kompadres roar drunk & delirious from heat papa holds me high over his head a trophy in front of my tías & mama as if to say i run through my little boy’s veins me me & when the doctors ask me to give blood type O negative i refuse no he can’t have it back on his deathbed i warn him that mama’ll be there to reckon with him in the afterlife not to count on entering heaven’s gates without a scuffle he just chuckles that cool deathbed chuckle says you still don’t know a goddamned thing that he isn’t planning on heaven but if there is an afterlife your mama’ll be there all right aching to do it all over again. ...