a father with a face of hate
leads his son with a face of pain
into a bar that is full of faces of hate and pain
the father orders a Jack Daniels and asks the son,
“Do you know from what state this here whiskey is made?”
the son appears as full of fear as a captured Iraqi
searching for an answer that will save him from torture
the father plays to the crowd of strangers witness to the infanticide:
“That’s the difference between the laziest and greatest generation;
you don’t know jack shit!”
the son lowers his head
a draft beer and hamburger arrive for the son
“I bet you don’t know why they call it a hamburger, boy.
If you’re old enough to drink, you should know why it is called a hamburger.”
the son nervously plays with his potato chips
like a matador setting up a helpless bull for the kill, the father bellows:
“And you expect to be a success in life.
You are a dumb shit, just like your fat fuckin’ mother!”
the father moves his fork and knife
back and forth, back and forth trying to think of another question
Marina the barmaid brings the father’s ham and cheese sandwich
and another question emerges from the father’s tormented mind:
”I bet you don’t know who the Earl of Sandwich is, do you boy?”
Charles Bukowski felt indescribable pain at the hands of a sadistic father
unlike Bukowski, the boy has neither the will to fight nor
the facility with words to communicate his rage
the son sits silently at the bar
his brewing anger and torment
will find expression many years later when he becomes a father
more cruel and sadistic than his own.