Richard Stevenson
His name was Raymond
Robinson.
A real man, not some
Green Lantern
costume-wearing escapee
from Ping Pong University,
but an ordinary guy.
Blind from age nine
when he was horribly
disfigured
in an electrical accident.
Out for
a nightly white-caned
stroll.
He may have dressed
in green
or suffered from a molten,
ropey
no-eyed glow-in-the
dark
skin condition.
Sought only privacy.
Didn’t want to
scare folks
walking sidewalks in
his neighbourhood
in broad daylight, his
white cane
twitching round corners
like some insect antenna.
But kids will be kids.
They teased
and taunted him.
Tossed beer cans
at his head. Made
up crazy stories
about their encounters
with a monster –
Some alien being in
a green lamé onesy.
Maybe he applied a little
make-up
to get in on the joke;
maybe he
just wanted to belong
to this world – again.
Even if it meant green
leotards
and a mask or Halloween
ghoul paint.
He could go door-to-door
with an adult,
fold up his cane, pretend
to be a kid again.
Or he could wrap a molten
paw around
pints he cadged out
of hangers-on
in the local pub for
the tall tales he spun.
Get drunk enough to
pose for selfies.
Crack a cracked grimace
for a smile.
Maybe eat crackers and
try to whistle
for a bowl of soup,
cheap pub food.
He
could have pretend friends that way, at least.
Richard
Stevenson recently retired from a 30-year teaching gig at Lethbridge College
and is in the process of selling his house in Lethbridge and moving to Nanaimo,
BC. His most recent publications are Rock, Scissors, Paper: The Clifford
Olson Murders (2016) and A Gaggle of Geese (2017).
Action
Dachshund! and An Abominable Swamp Slob Named Bob are forthcoming.
