AMY AND HER DAD DO THE LAUNDRY ---------------------------------------------------- DISCLAIMER: The persons and situations portrayed in this poem are works of the writer's imagination and are not to be taken to imply that the accident in which my daughter (who is also named Amy) was killed was caused by a drunk driver. Since there has been no verdict for or against the man accused of OUIL in her death, I want to make it perfectly clear that this is a work of imagination that merges stories I've heard from parents who HAVE had children killed by drunk drivers. ------------------------------------------------------ 1. In the guest's laundry at our hotel there's a folding table on the table is my laptop behind the monitor there are two spigots recessed into the beige plasterboard wall near them to the left the electrical outlet I'm using to power this laptop near them to the right some phone numbers scribbled in pencil These spigots have blue handles hexagon handles like the kind in the backyard Wondering what they were for turned my head and saw that there are three more those three in use one for each of the washing machines If this fourth one was in use I wouldn't have a table to write on thank you for small favors There's some lint in the bottom of the recessed box they're in They are dusty from disuse They don't remind me of Amy 2. This laptop has a 386 and a grayscale monitor and a customized version of Nibbles Nibbles was one of the games distributed with early releases of DOS - runs under QBASIC I modified the game for her, added more interesting mazes and hardcoded a slower speed for the little cursor that runs through them She carried this clothes basket up and down the stairs for me before Most of the clothes in it are clothes she's seen me in It's raining, starting to turn cold I don't remember if she was scared of lightening storms That's scary - what else will I forget? 3. Halloween just passed Last year, she was a bride This year she probably would have been a Spice Girl Mom and Dad would not let her dress like Olivia Newton John in Grease and she didn't know what the girl from the Titanic looked like Last Halloween I brought her little sister to school they paraded through the halls together some other kids brought younger sibs too it's that kind of school Just a few weeks before she was killed she was explaining to her little sister about school (Lisa was starting kindergarten) During assemblies, Lisa would get to sit on the floor at the front of the auditorium Lisa was happy about that At day care, the kindergarteners were the oldest and had to sit in the back (so dad recalls the conversation going) 4. We finished dinner at Big Boys She read in the back seat with the light on Finished her book Put it down and said goodnight Was killed 5. (Somewhere in America:) A guy's digging in the pocket of a worn out, favorite pair of jeans He finds his keys, fumbles they crash to the ground Picks them up and laughs out loud No one's around - who are you laughing for? He laughs again - louder he yells his laugh to the sky After a few passes, the key finds the lock he turns it and the button pops up he pulls the door open and climbs into the cab Fingers of the left hand circle the ignition the index finger of the right hand feels for the slot he tries to push the key where the finger was laughs when it fails "Can't find the hole, eh?" He turns his head Outside, a friend's just pulled up and thrown his joke through the open window Driver laughs at it puts his head on the steering wheel tries to regain his composure Hard to see tears are streaming down his cheek that was pretty damn funny, get it? can't find the hole? hahahaha Such a funny joke calls for a drink His friend's already inside He gets out of the truck manages to get the keys back into his pocket walks back into the bar 6. Some level of success I got the clothes from the washer to the dryer without thinking about the times she and I played in the basement me throwing the damp clothes to her a piece at a time so she could "help me with the laundry" and so I could spend some time with her doing things I knew she would probably grow to hate. 7. Email from a student talks about a child molester who got probation. Another student with a brother stabbed 22 times by the jealous ex-lover of a homeless woman he'd taken in. Perpetrator up for parole after 2 years. Someone in a chat room complains about getting the wrong color vehicle. I listen to Bruce's song about children missing legs after meeting with landmines in Mozambique. The size of our tragedy grows and shrinks depending on the light I shine on it. This must be normal. How big is the tragedy of a dead child and why should I give a shit about anyone else's pain? 8. A long time ago San Francisco a BART station, probably Powell Street a man in his 40s or 50s dressed in dirty clothes leans against the wall takes a few stumbling steps bumps into someone Amy asks what's wrong with that man is he sick? we're aware of the subtle line between seeing this as an illness and making a moral judgement we tell her it's an illness For years, the story and the question are with us When we see beer ads when she sees people passed out on the sidewalks or in parks in Oakland in Berkeley in San Francisco She talks this out with mom and dad The agreement in our house is no more than 2 drinks on any given night no more than 1 night a week if we are out, only one of us can have a glass of wine the other one drives She's concerned Why do people do this to themselves? Can't President Clinton just close down all the bars? I don't want to try and explain to her about liquor lobbies and the Free Market and the amoral nature of commerce At the same time we want her to learn about the line between 'freedom' and 'license' we want to let her know that actions have consequences we want her to know that addictions exist we want her to know about making good choices So we tell her what we can It's gratifying and mysterious to me that she's concerned about the people and what they are doing this to themselves She isn't yet fully aware that these people have impacts on other people someone else decides to teach her that lesson himself 9. The dryer continues to rattle behind me I'm not impatient like I was when it was her Tshirt for soccer and the game was in 20 minutes or when it was clothes for a weekend trip and the later we waited for them to dry the later we'd arrive to check in or set up camp or when it was the top she just had to have to wear to school on picture day I guess that's a good thing patience is a virtue She died over three months ago Lisa is still not Lisa Jean is still not Jean I am still not me and she's still dead Patience will help some of these things change 10. (Somewhere in America:) A woman overacts her anger red wine on a light blue dress "it will never wash out!" Someone suggests soda water and hands her a glass She takes it gladly and stands up pushes back her chair nearly falls, catches her balance Weaving her way through the crowded restaurant bumping into tables men who leer women who push back one tray that topples It is a very very long walk In the ladies room she splashes the stain pats it dry splashes again pats it dry stands near the hot air hand dryer "White wine for me" she announces back at her table avoiding any further serious damage They've already eaten dessert and coffee still to come perhaps Sambucca to complement the dinner Then, a twenty minute drive home 11. Little sister is asleep on the bed back in the hotel room I think about yesterday at school I was embarassed by her mouse When she colored it in she painted broadly covered the legs head tail It was a large blob of black paint on paper I asked her to draw it again I kept telling myself that was the wrong thing to do But I couldn't stop I want to see her run I watch her walking toward the classroom her walk is a limp her weight is on the instep the bones in her left ankle look deformed her 45 pounds focus on that one joint I imagine bone coming through flesh I watch a videotape of her April 1998 her birthday party at Leslie Science Center running digging thrilled opening her presents helping her friends find a dinosaur bone on the "dig" I want her back 12. The dryer stopped I hear the wind whipping through the not quite tight door jamb I want to sit here until that eerie sound becomes Amy's voice and her ghost comes to visit me - November 9, 1998 ---------------------------------------------------- DISCLAIMER: The person and situations portrayed in this poem are works of the writer's imagination and are not to be taken to imply that the accident in which my daughter (who is also named Amy) was killed was caused by a drunk driver. Since there has been no verdict for or against the man accused of OUIL in her death, I want to make it perfectly clear that this is a work of imagination that merges stories I've heard from parents who HAVE had children killed by drunk drivers. ------------------------------------------------------