Captain Lou, by Rob MacDonald
A rainbow of rubberbands
twisted into your beard,
you housebroke
George “The Animal” Steele,
played Mario,
brave little plumber,
fat little brother,
and shook a stern finger at Cindy,
her stutter-step dances
and bopping band of harlots.
Where’d you go, Lou?
I still see your Hawaiian shirt,
buttons burst, and underneath,
a t-shirt bearing a picture of you,
wearing a Hawaiian shirt,
chanting Lou, Lou, Lou...
The left hand rubs the gut,
soothes the fat. The right
shakes life from a turkey leg.
Between bites, you spit
the word rematch.
Oh, Captain Lou,
my Captain Lou,
untie the turnbuckle
and let me eat like a king again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rob MacDonald lives in Boston and is the editor of Sixth Finch. His poems can be found in Octopus, Gulf Coast, notnostrums, H_NGM_N and other journals.
