David J. Thompson

It’s Come True

I was in the delivery room for the birth,
couldn’t tell there was anything wrong-
the baby just a gooey, crying mess. Later, 
after they cleaned it up, the nurse turned
her head when she handed him to me.
When I pulled back the little blue blanket
to see my son’s face for the first time,
I was ready to coo and make silly faces,
but instead all I said was, Oh, shit, walked
quickly over to the bed and shoved him 
at my wife. Goddamnit, I said. It’s come true.

It was a Friday night about nine months ago,
we were both worn out by the work week.
We were feeling silly, watching a Tarzan movie
on TCM, and drinking way too fucking much
of my homemade banana wine. We started
horsing around on the couch as we watched
Cheetah laughing and dancing around clapping
when the always near- naked Tarzan and Jane 
disappeared into their tree house love nest.
We, too, then shut off the tv, grabbed the rest
of the yellow nectar, and bounded into the bedroom. 
I helped her pulled off her jeans in a hurry, and 
she got on top of me with my pants still around 
my ankles. Oh, my God, she said when we were 
finished with each other and sharing a cigarette.
Your banana wine is going to make a monkey out of me.

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