The Little Man Poem by Jeffrey Quattlebaum

One morning I awoke
And there on the foot of my bed
Sat a man of no more than a foot in height
He sat there smiling at me
And I rubbed my eyes
I had drank
no less
than twenty beers the night before
I was sweating and my breathing was hard
Heavy, no less than two packs of cigarettes
Along with the beer and some shots of vodka
A couple of pills
My lungs burned
I couldn’t feel my left leg
So here was this little man, smiling
He motioned with his hand for me to come near him
I rubbed my eyes once more
And he spoke to me
“Do you want to know a secret? ”
I could barely hear his tiny voice
He motioned again.
I sat up slowly and pushed the blankets to the side
And moved to him
I turned my head to the side
My ear to him
He balled up his fist and punched me right in my temple
It hurt like hell
I said “Why the hell did you hit me? ”
He said, “Because you don’t listen.”
“I just bent in to hear you and you hit me. I could smash you right now, you know? ”
“Do you want to know a secret? ” he said again
And again I bent my ear to him, this time with the other ear.
BAM! He socked me good again, my right cheek.
I had had enough so I went to the couch
With my pillow and my blanket
And I went back to sleep, my right cheek throbbing
That little sucker had a punch!
I woke up around noon
I heard water running
It was coming from the bathroom
When I looked in there I saw a little boat
It was floating around in the bath tub and the water,
The water was nearing the top so I shut it off
From inside the little boat cabin
The little man emerged in his little sailor suit
And his little sailor hat
He says to me, “Ahoy! Do you want to see something funny? ”
I sat on the toilet seat and leaned in
The little man reached down and picked something up
He raised it up and I heard a sound.
Phhttt!
A sudden stinging feeling I felt in my neck
I ran my hand over the area and felt something
Something sticking from my neck. Ouch!
I pulled the object out with my fingers. Ouch!
It was a tiny spear from a tiny spear gun.
The sonofabitch is trying to kill me, I thought.
So I asked him, “What the hell man? Why do you cause harm to me? ”
And he said, “Because you don’t see.”
I said then to him, “Look, let’s just be friends. Enough with this violence.”
I extended my forefinger and he shook on it.
We were friends now.
After some time, three-weeks
After bar-hopping and grocery shopping
Going to the dog races and the park together
He went with me on dates and to pay bills
We laughed and took it easy
And slowly I began to realize what he was trying to say
I had decided
that the next morning I would tell him what I had discovered
And sure he would be happy, I felt good and turned in
When I woke, went to the shoebox where the little man slept
His little makeshift bed was empty
He was gone
I went to the window, lit a smoke
A bird was on the window sill
He was saying “Let me in, let me in.”
I didn’t let him in.
I was sad.
For the past three weeks I was happy
For no less than three weeks
I could see
I heard everything
And now a bird is my only caller
my cat jumped on the sill, scared the bird away
The cat had something hanging from his chin, from the side of his mouth
A piece of fabric, blue and white
Like a sailor suit
I closed the blinds
Thinking of the little man
I wondered what he could see or hear
From inside a cat’s belly