Let Us Rise Up Like Brave Men Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

I walked into Navin’s room
my sister’s son from her first marriage
which ended after eleven years
because Herbert refused
to refrain from picking
his nose in public. “It’s my finger.
It’s my nose, ” he often said.
When my sister filed for divorce
he straight-away
bought a dozen handkerchiefs,
but by then it was far,
far too late.
Navin asked me
if I wanted to trade his old radio which he had sold me
for his new one
since the new one played like shit,
his words.
I said, “You must live with your choice—
there’s no other way.”
“That’s how a Guru talks, ” said Navin
to his friend, Michael,
then both twelve year olds laughed.
While they laughed I sprinkled fish food
into Navin’s fish tank
and eleven tiny creatures swam upwards,
opened their mouths,
and gobbled the flakes.
“Expound on what you have just witnessed, ” I said.
“Use words for normal people, ” replied Navin.
“Of course, whad ya just see? ”
“You fed the fish, ” said Michael.
“A correct observation,
but what does it mean with respect
to your life? ”
“Gurus are like that, ” said Navin,
“they can only talk to other Gurus.”
“It means, ” I said seriously,
“that fish want to survive
and you wear your father’s underwear—
shit stains and all.”
“MA, MA, ” screamed Navin.
“What’s the matter? ” asked my sister rushing into the room.
“Uncle Steve’s a nut.”
“THAT I knew before you were born, ” she said,
“tell me something new.”
“SPEAK
SPEAK NOW, ” I bellowed.
Navin said, “C’mon, c’mon.
pop your fuckin’ psycho pills already
my head’s hurtin’.”
then he laughed
the sound the same as Herbert’s
so I whispered, “No escape.”