What Men Make
Agony warms tears as they rise. It’s the heartburn of the soul…
Dads, fathers, live on a different type of time. They tell and read it depending on how flexible legs are when they spread for air. Arlo, tried to play straight, unlike his pops who switched on women like a sexy walk.
“I’ll get there when I arrive, and stay, until I get tired, which is soon as I finish, long after I you’re ready”, is what Arlo’s dad used to tell his partners in heartbreak. Rare as it was for Arlo to see his father, and the excitement of gifts bribing affection and loyalty, to dismiss the women and noises Arlo heard echoing from back rooms where his father made a “quick stop”, which always made him feel his father was growing tired of him. The kids are rarely wrong.
As Arlo grew, he was motivated from what made people monsters.
“Love makes you lazy. I gotta get up and get it. Don’t have time to be laying and listening to a woman’s plans to make a man less than what conquered her.”
Memorizing and repeating his father’s blueprint, Arlo found a way of life that suited him; in and out- of women, banks, jewelry stores and prison. Until he settled down behind ten years of service.
“How have my longest relationships always involved damaged, dangerous men?” Is what he constantly asked himself
“Do not poison your thoughts-anger and hate is not an antidote.”
Arlo’s celly told him that, after Arlo found out he had a son, by a good girl he liked, but on the inside, good girls and bad minds aint compatible. Until then, Arlo only dreamed of ways to become a legitimate criminal and prison was his final class before graduating and wearing the collar of prestige. Taking courage made him feared by society and civilians.
But the news of his son, made him want to be the man, and the father his never was, a war, hard fought for a black child idolizing their neighbor’s hood. For that goal, he needed to do what he had never done, have a positive plan, that didn’t involve manifesting violence.
When Arlo got out, he was twenty-six and his son was thirteen. That good girl was dealing with a good man, he had willed into her life, which made him believe she wasn’t a real one from the beginning.
Arlo’s parole officer gave him a watch and told him-“Take care of your business and I’ll mind my own.”
Arlo examined the watch, turned his wrist like a child discovering. Every inch, he felt was a step in a new direction- freedom. Arlo made the moves towards improving; secured employment, resisted con — activities except easy women. He reached out to his ex to meet his son. Arlo found a job, hustled up enough money for a whole apartment, away from the halfway house the state committed him to.
On a night when the seasons gave feelings of change, Arlo left work, and cut through a private road. He saw a young man with a familiar face. His stare was strange and held a moment too long- a sign of trouble where he was from. Arlo frowned; a tell, meaning it was time to move on. But instead, the kid stepped towards. Arlo reacted, slowing the youngins clock to a stop.
Arlo stripped him and ran home. His door was next to receive wrath, another issue he needed to fix. This and sex were his release after years of steeling himself and watching men get ironed out simply for showing a smile. He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. After the repairs, his parole officer popped up for a visit.
“Your son, the one you wished for a relationship with?”
Arlo nodded impatiently. “His body was found on the road.”
-When you see people and judge, you can miss love-
