Fixing Things

I remember when 

I was growing up 

My friend Tic’s father 

Was a member of the Pagans.

An outlaw biker gang. 

The One-Percenters 

Meant a totally 

Different thing 

Back then. 

He was heavily tattooed 

Which 

At the time 

Was uncommon 

Except for the military 

Bikers
And ex-cons. 

He used to wear 

“I Love Jesus” 

T-shirts 

With the sleeves cut off 

As a big middle finger 

To surrounding society 

And to raise eyebrows. 

He had a dark sense of humor. 

One particular 

Early winter 

His bike broke down. 

They had no garage.

So he moved out 

The kitchen table 

As a solution 

And pushed in his 

Beast of a bike 

So that he could work on it 

In the comfort 

Of their heated home. 

The kitchen became 

His garage. 

Tools and parts 

Were quickly 

Strewn everywhere. 

The family forced 

To eat their meals 

In the living room 

Over a knotted pine 

Coffee table 

Purchased with 

H&H Green Stamps. 

A week of 

Sweat and cursing 

Tic’s dad got 

The bike put back together 

And fixed. 

I was there the day 

He got it started. 

He was damp and high 

From a several day 

Pagan manufactured 

Meth bender. 

The veins in his neck 

And on his forehead 

Were bulging. 

His eyes were wide open 

And wouldn’t shut. 

He fired 

The machine up 

Right there in the kitchen. 

Oil and exhaust 

Filled the small home. 

He cursed triumphantly. 

As he released the throttle 

He held onto the brake 

Doing a terrific burnout 

Right there on the kitchen floor. 

There was murderous noise 

And choking smoke 

Everywhere. 

The floor was black 

From rubber 

And burn. 

Tic’s mom started 

Screaming at him 

At the top of her lungs 

As he pushed the heaving beast 

Back outside 

Navigating 

The narrow frame of the doorway 

And covering the bike up 

With a dropcloth. 

He came back in 

To the hysterical woman. 

He looked her square in the eyes 

And told her to calm down. 

He stepped back outside 

And brought the kitchen table 

Back in 

Pushing it 

Directly over the burnout 

Followed by the chairs 

And told her that it was fixed. 

He then 

Went to the fridge 

Stuck his hand in 

And sat down on the sofa 

To watch tv 

With the rest of the family 

Popping a beer 

As if everything was normal. 

And his family 

Stared at the television 

As if 

Nothing had happened 

While Tic’s mom 

Sobbed in the kitchen.