He knows it’s his one last chance to make it up to you.
Sounds desperate.
I’ll tell you this; deep down, he’s a good guy.
They all are.
He is. He struggles every single day. He craves. Look at him over there. All the sweating is not just from this heat.
. . . .
He’s got a lot of love for you and your sister.
Love?
Yes, Love. Love is complicated all around—twisted humanness, flaws and scars so deep, it would take an excavator to dig out the meaning of it all.
I guess.
You should rest.
I really don’t want to be here. This is just like him. All this excess. I just want to be gone.
Then go.
. . . .
You love him, you’ll support him.
Who’s gonna support me? I’m a little sick and tired of supporting him only to have him skip out on rehab, or relapse. What’s the point? It never sticks.
I think if he has the will and the support of his loved ones and a killer sober coach, he could be free.
I just don’t know if I believe it. I’ve been disappointed too many times.
Give him a shot. In the meantime, I’ve eaten way too many butter cookies. I’m going to sleep. You should too. But first, hit the shower. You’re a little funky.
Shower?
Perplexed
How Rutherford got
a tour bus
in Ghana
with four bunk beds
a pullout sofa
a fish tank
and satellite TVs
I cannot begin
to fathom,
but the fact
that there’s a shower
makes my life
right now.
Texts to Storm
1:01 am
I’m pissed at you
because your warning came a day late, and a dollar 1:01 am
short. Phone and Wi-Fi service here sucks! I got your messages after 1:02 am
the rolling stone had already shown up. So, I guess, thanks for nothing.
1:02 am
It’s a nightmare. And, I haven’t even met her yet.
The whole reason I’m 1:02 am
even here, and I keep getting these roadblocks.
I can’t get no flippin’ satisfaction.
Delayed
1:03 am
This is an auto-response.
The text message to Storm
Morrison was delayed.
The next morning
I look out
the window
and see Rutherford
and Uncle Stevie
kicking soccer balls
with the kids
as the camera
and Birdie
watch.
Unsettling
On the walk to school
Sia suddenly starts gagging, then lets go of my hand
and throws up all over
my flip-flops.
I carry her back to
the bus
to rest,
but halfway there we hear
a pulsing wave of music,
a loud, fast tremolo coming
from the school, so we turn around and she jumps down, leading me back to
a very familiar sound.
Captured
The entire school
of students
and teachers
plus people
in the village
are gathered
in the church SLASH school
cheering
and watching
as Rutherford Morrison
drops electric bombs
in the air
like he’s Jimi Hendrix
and Konko
is Woodstock.
Track 10: The Star Spangled Banner (LIVE)
ROCKER: JIMI HENDRIX DATE: AUGUST 18, 1969 VENUE: WOODSTOCK MUSIC AND ART FAIR, WOODSTOCK, NY
Rutherford said his dad
once saw Jimi play the guitar with his teeth, and that he actually set his guitar on fire once, which helped set his career on fire.
But most people agree that the defining moment
in Jimi Hendrix’s life was when he stood on stage in a blue-beaded leather jacket with a red scarf at the Woodstock Music and Art Fair in front of 40,000 people after being awake for three days, and played an amped-up, distorted, electric guitar solo of “The Star Spangled Banner,”
which the editors of Guitar World called
the number one greatest performance ever.
EVER!
Music Lessons
When he finishes, all the kids want to know how to play the strings, make the guitar sing and reverb
like he just did.
Sia
climbs
into his lap touches his face and traces
the lines
on his forehead and cheeks.
Old, she says.
He tickles her in a way I remember him doing to me and Storm
a long time ago.
He allows Sia to strum the guitar, gets the kids pumped up
with a hope he’ll never be able to fulfill.
This, I know.
Conversation
Are you jealous of your father? Joy asks.
No, I just don’t want him to get their hopes up.
That is what they need, to have their hopes up.
. . . .
You seem distracted.
I’m angry. It shouldn’t be this hard. I just want to meet my mother. I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE
AND FIND HER.
I understand. I’m sorry that it’s not easier. Sometimes the things that are good in life take work. And patience.
I’ve been patient. I’m almost eighteen years old, and I have no idea what I’m doing. Being here doesn’t even make sense anymore. I thought I could escape the madness, but it just followed me. I can’t stay here. I’m going to find her on my own.
The Elders
Five men
with graying beards and one woman
in a colorful kente dress sit in
a circle
allowing
Rutherford Morrison to charm them
into letting him interrupt
their lives
with his annoying camera and reckless attitude.
They applaud
his empty promises of reality TV fame, welcome
his Hennessy
and iPad gifts, and wish him
well in his
rock ’n’ roll comeback.
But, Dad, what about the dormitory? I ask, loud enough for everyone to hear me, even the elder who was nodding off. Didn’t you say you would build a dormitory for the teachers, with a cafeteria and showers for everyone in the village to use?
The gentleman will build a dormitory, so that the rains will not halt school, the one woman present echoes, standing up and clapping as the other elders follow suit.
At first, he is silent, then he kinda nods his head, looks at the camera, and says, Yes, I will build it. I will build the best dormitory possible for the village of . . . of . . .
Konko, says the camera guy.
And for the first time since he’s arrived, I laugh.
Acting
If that’s the price I gotta
pay to regain your trust
and love, I’ll pay it, he says,
giving me a hug
right in front
of the camera.
All day
in the burning sun, the camera is in our faces
like an invader from planet Hollywood.
I try to ignore, but it captures every word, each drop of sweat, every bite of food.
A little obnoxious while we feed our faces, don’t you think? Can we take a break from the filming now?
He pops up zooms in
and out
as Rutherford, Birdie, and Uncle Stevie prance around like the Three Stooges leading a parade of innocents.
By day’s end
the camera
is still here along with
the last streams of sunlight
to close out the day, and the kids can’t get enough.
The smiles
on their faces as they perform for the camera, singing, twirling, dancing, and jumping around say it all:
happiness, raw like unfiltered honey.
They ask for playbacks so they can
see themselves for the first time.
They hover
around
camera guy’s monitor and watch
their lives
unfold in laughter and hugs.
Mirrors