Oteų By Michael Dickes

What do you give a man who can spare no room for wanting? A small gift, a token gem to cause a smile? How we all would like to see the man smile. To remove the pain in his hip that holds its grip even in bed when his eyes are just closed. The sleeping at night became something he pretended to do and was bothered by. This man, I feared his flairings up. This man, who rarely spoke and seldom said things that served no purpose; whose own father left him to live or die by the abusive hand of his affected mother, but live he did, only to marry poorly and provide for my sisters and brothers. Fig Newtons were his favorite, with a slow can of beer in his quiet garage. In a strange box for his birthday, I will bury my father while my mother cooks funeral potatoes somewhere in Utah.

© 2012 Michael Dickes, first appeared at Fictionaut

Michael Dickes is a writer living in New York City. Michael’s literary fiction has been or is scheduled to be featured in Kerouac’s Dog Magazine, Southpaw Literary Journal, Tree Killer Ink, Thunderclap! Press, Duality, Do Hookers Kiss?, Metazen, THIS Literary Magazine, The Istanbul Literary Review, and others. Michael has also been a performing songwriter for over 20 years, selling nearly 30,000 CDs primarily right off of the stage. He has sung his songs from the stages of small town saloons, West Coast coffee houses, and festivals to the theatres and clubs of Europe. More information about Michael’s fiction and music can be found at http://www.michaeldickes.weebly.com

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