Patterns

Patterns had a way of catching and reforming you. Patterns of waking and starting the day, which foot hit the floor first, parts of the body lathered and scrubbed, teeth brushed in never-varying groups, toast quartered and buttered just so, books placed in bag largest to smallest, back to front; route taken to street car, scenery passing by–familiar buildings with familiar colors rolling until you step off and find the same paperboy shouting yesterday’s news. But this too is a pattern.

Case Studies In Dirt

1.

When a boy: his ma cursed him for wild, scrubbing muck from his ears

When a lad: his ma cursed him for sinner, scrubbing foul from his tongue

When a man: his ma cursed him forsaken, crying for the tarnish of his name

Some dirt, so she said, just don’t wash

2.

Before seminary: he was a lusty lad fleeing Ol’ Horny

During seminary: he was a horny lad lusting after the parish priest

After seminary: he was an ol’ parish priest lusting after horny lads

Some dirt, so they said, just don’t wash

3.

Before the war: he buggered boys in the alleyway

During the war: he blew men in the trench

After the war: he buggered out his brains, lips wrapped around a barrel

Some dirt, so they thought, just don’t wash