Ready or Not by Frank Light
Hearing no evil, fearing no man
prospective friends already
comfortable in their own sins and pancho liners
sleep the sleep of regular hours
undisturbed by passing showers
undetected scouts or unresolved doubts
let alone the zoned-out still up-and-about
newbie too many days in transit, temporarily moody
antsy, goosy, small-town rube
with much to prove, Repo Ray broods he
blew his cues, missed his moves
blew past his bedtime, crossed some red line
(you and yours, me and mine, theirs ill-defined)
came off as paranoid, easily annoyed, hard to avoid
long-winded, slow-witted, guilt-ridden, glory-smitten, snakebitten
uncentered, unmentored, cred surrendered, judgment rendered
or is he just not yet a vetted member?
tentative tremors
temporal splinters
lightning shears
floaters flitter
for all that glitters, there’s more that doesn’t
low-grade buzz under thunder peals
the previously prickly ears of not-yet peers
bum steers and ten-cent beers
rum and Coke chasers
did him no favors
fingernail scrapers o the vapors dubious capers
looming larger in rear-view
mirrors smeared, old guard cashiered, careers defunct
stuck-in-the-mud lifers stinking drunk in a fusty funk
of their own who’d-a-thunk
who are they and who is he
to plunk his butt
on this musky bunk
laid out neat by the cleaning lady
maybe eighteen, nicknamed Baby
socks and underwear folded on top
footwear under, floor wet-mopped
so where’s his jacket, didn’t he unpack it?
weren’t there four, in fact –
two at the tailors, one he wore to the… geez –
the other in reserve?
he’ll ask, at least she’s approachable
heckuva way to meet the locals
best laid plans are only notional
not taking it personal, isn’t everything
purposeful, most things workable?
with so much perishable
cherish what’s seared, and secured,
if nothing’s ventured
what’s revered?
Grandpa interred
with taps on tape
flag and flowers on the casket
ratcheted lower in the rain
sunk by sudden cardiac arrest
Grandma clutching a basket, flabbergasted
Ray in dress greens, on compassionate leave from basic
a future light-wheeled vehicle mechanic
his mother in black
her own parents long lost to a car wreck
standing dry-eyed and straight, her ex-husband late
from a caribou camp in Quebec
as if by magic
all things drastic turn elastic
mini to massive
beyond credulity
self-inflicted cruelty
as Grandpa would say, pure tomfoolery
not sweating any would-be enemies,
laying low in the laws
of probability, the epitome of serenity,
his grandson’s buddies-to-be like logs in a millpond
saw burring and they’re feeling no pain
as if they’ve done this before, will do it again
and there’s more where this came from
not Ray now Ray at the Ready, he’s learned never to assume
always make room
can’t help but remember
abhorring a vacuum,
nature moves inward
point being don’t swim against the tide
rather, stroke to the side
pump gas at the Texaco biding your time
I’ll find you something, Ray Sr. promised, but you gotta be forceful
let ‘em know up front you have what they want
hold this – they were changing the oil –
first you have to want it
for yourself and for them, got it?
hitch up your trousers, be resourceful
it’s also important, his mom said while sharing a beer,
to know what you don’t want
it can sneak up on you
it did me
don’t ask
your Grandma said you were thinking about the Army
why not give junior college a try?
at the county fair the summer after high school
his old prom date said in the dusk, her hand firm on his arm
lights twinkling, calliope reciting, ferris wheel berthing
roller coaster swooshing, girls shrieking sheer terror sheer joy
she needed direction
when in two weeks she’d be off to the university
and he needed less, not more
she too but didn’t realize it
yet
she wanted to be friends, brushing at his cowlick,
just friends, practicing
wasn’t even that with a stranger he met at a Labor Day kegger
who got in his ‘49 Plymouth known as the Mayflower she wasn’t ready
only wanted a ride before the rain you could smell it coming
up from Bangor with a friend of a friend from Medway she couldn’t find
white-buttoned white lacy blouse and thin, too thin
looked him in the eye then down at her hands and his
shallow breaths and a long sigh, sighs
twitchy as a squirrel, freckled nose, temples, giveaway dimples
brushed his arm once and again while he drove,
hairs bristling, goosepimples tingling as if it weren’t happening but it could
and gave him her number when he asked with a brisk thanks-for-the-ride kiss
and one for the road but something was amiss, an eyelid tic, trembling lips
could you slow down? she said, her long-legged foot tap tap tapping
Slow, slow. Ray. Please.
should have seen the Red Ball express on the round trip
bat out of hell, first drops falling, flashbulb sky to the west
next time we’ll talk, she said, seeing he wasn’t ready
story of his life
so far
Patricia went by Patty
fuzz like frost on her cheeks, smile a shooting star
set herself on fire in the snow
January or was it March?
lawnmower can of gas outside her car by a clearcut
it made the paper, no reason given
just as well
what use are signs that point backward
(or inward where everything starts)
when it’s forward for all to see?
over Thanksgiving the prom date admitted to another guy
you ask who, you’re given a why
even junior college you have to apply
and still might need a loan
join the Navy, wrote an old teammate who did,
see the world through a porthole
GI Bill for when you’ve had your fill
same with the Army and you’re not as confined
Ray then Ray What Say also went by Rockin Ray played the guitar
football and baseball good hands but never learned to dribble
his Dad said go out for quarterback like your grandfather
swore he would’ve too if he hadn’t hurt his knee
not me, said the son, I’m the world’s skinniest tight end
by all accounts his Dad had been a handful, left the girls tearful
Grandma as ever an earful, Grandpa the sentinel
twenty years as a faller, hard bark, soft core
said follow your star
Grandma works indoors
talking as she files she gets it out
Grandpa a veteran
Iran in the Big One
Persia it was then
saw Churchill, FDR, and Stalin
issued an M-1 and a .45 fired only at the range
someone cooked his meals, cleaned his room
he winked for Grandma: just like home
already a father he missed his son
they’d fish for lake salmon
with a thermosful of her famous mulberry wine
she on the thwart chatting and knitting
son and grandson once climbed Mt. Katahdin
ran out of water, one of life’s little lessons
each fall they’d hunt for bear (never got one), deer, duck, and pheasant
dressing the kill turned his mom off venison
now a vegetarian, a travel agent in Boston
his father sells Oldsmobiles in Portland
won an all-expenses, three-day trip to Motown
drives a Rocket 88
a Marlboro man
sentiment a precipitate
filtered silt the sediment
pitcher spilt, bottles clinked
jinx, jive, beehive overdrive
caffeine jitters, lizards twitter
skitter, scurry under the flooring
weary, bleary, fan whirring
reminding Redeye Ray how he’d embrace the storms
arms spread mouth to the sky rain the world over
it’s he that’s on a tangent he hopes, he fears
storm clearing
ozone and outlines
snorts and snoring
advance warning
recurring pangs
behavioral mooring tied to events
39 winks
out of sequence
keep him sleepless
applesauce cake a lifelong weakness
beat him here but spoiled on arrival in aluminum foil
a note with a World War I flying ace at the top says love be careful
should have trashed it
before the roaches
poached it
splat! take that
back and
yin
yang
boomerang
off kilter
spheres hurtle
parallel coils
the carousel curls
full circle
waves around brawn
aegis foregone
forefathers pawned
alien spawn
alone
Can you remember? prim and proper Patty asked, leaning back into the car.
Or should I write it down?
Mind like a steel trap, he replied.
An elephant, she said, that firefly smile
didn’t last any more than a gasp. Thankless task.
Did six come before seven or only when counting?
his Mom brought up his old quarterback, now in Toronto
you don’t care for the city, what about St. John?
she had an aunt in St. John
after the service she pressed a charm into his palm
the St. Christopher she offered all her clients and now her only son
only child, it’s on a braid the prom date gave him
when she heard he was on orders
her exboyfriend not really a boyfriend, she said,
just a friend who wasn’t ready
ha-ha who is these days?
well, her roommate for one
they drove crosscountry crashed a pad in LA
couldn’t relate when he stopped on his way to Travis
among acquaintances of mutual convenience
and consciously spacey in the vacancies
between what could have been and LSD
mescaline and still could be
the braid on his chest like a camp craft
the Mayflower on blocks at his father’s
together they replaced its transmission
took the better part of a weekend
$200 and still it clunks
what you get when you love your junk too much
standby out of Jackson Ray made every flight
early morning to late at night
everybody more than polite they were kind
he must have looked sad, scared, lost or stoned
he’d never before flown
the known so few
the unknown so many
not all of them friendly
for every drop of empathy
a bog of apathy
deepening pool of enmity
and memories rise like weeds to the rain
the purr of the present drowned by the splatter
the familiar laughed at, ratpack claptrap
catch a catnap
negative contact
interrupted
did he jump or was he pushed
misses the crux where motives mesh
rushing, swept up and along
headlong headstrong
is how it came to this
alternative universe
antithetical hands, thumbs opposable
skilled, well-drilled, coolly methodical, eerily mechanical
virtually robotic, quasi-narcotic, metronomic
nut job? were it so
no, it’s zeal
nerves of steel
not paranoia when it’s real
imminence
conducted
impetus
unobstructed
increments ringed
lanyard yanked
charge combusted
insomnia outflanked
pin pinged
reverberating
a calculated destiny
accelerating ascent
parabolic apogee
stabilized descent
wends tail-finned
transcends the counterfactual
once augured
arcs to actual
seminal capsule
impulse impact
maximum extract
augered
out of –
whack!
Ray’s pulse palpitates
skips a track
syncopates, elevates
out of the sack
lungs in suction
percussive eruption
concussive induction
voltage jolted gauntlet vaulted
off-screen phosphene light beam
kaleidoriot dark inside it
benighted, blindsided
golden petals blow and settle
test of mettle, bang the kettle
clang the echo, uh-oh
ears cuffed, sand cratered
knuckles scuffed, breathing labored
drawing a blank, looking askance
at clumped, cluttered, moonlit apparatus
the locker door clanks, lancing the trance
striking the match and – ow ow ow – calf cramps
air tamped, a maelstrom, madness decompressed
cranked, jacked, ramped, amped
suppressed yips and yammers yield to clamors
stamp, tramp, stump
unsnag the trousers off the hook
there’s a jacket – under the trousers!
bottom up
left into left, right – oop, fly in front –
your military right, hitch, kick
trip, rip, get a –
“Get it on!”
jungle boots, laces loose
walls pelted, bedlam welcome
“My helmet!”
used so seldom
regulation compels him
checks shelf
licks thumb
umm, crumbs
ants!
chump
“Under your bunk.”
did he put it there or was it Baby
behind the corcorans, crazy
stub
tug drag drape lug traipse
“This way, Kiddo!”
“Ray.”
web belt
hung
felt
slung
rifle
armful
mindful
standstill at the threshold
flesh cold and sweaty
hair raised, legs heavy
blazed air
flayed confetti
plastered sober
developing composure
double exposure
TV on in full disclosure
black and white Ray’s incubator
Beau Geste inculcator, special-effects the detonator
Bogart, Bendex, Wayne
Grandpa’s den, Millinocket, Maine
Narragansetts and Slim Jims on the divan
where men were men more than willing to let Grandma in
with something fresh from the oven
or nothing but her needles and knitting
scarves, cardigans, afghans, caps, and mittens
a beagle named Snoopy since Grandpa nixed kittens
on the whole she preferred the kitchen
radio, dominoes, pinochle, the accordion
Grandma was, is, Acadian
been to Quebec but never St. John
“Kiddo.”
with Rockin Ray on the 12-string they’d do Cajun and Hank Williams
and when his Dad was around he’d sing, flat-out croon, hands over heart
your cheating heart down on the bayou
his mother loved her show tunes
Oklahoma, the King and I, and South Pacific
which he saw with her under a tent, summer theater
she taught him the foxtrot and waltz
jitterbug he knew
taught her to boogaloo
“Kid!”
so here he stands, first and last of the litter
sweetens the bitter
hurts Grandma the way his parents bicker
separating, he thinks, made it simpler
simpler still is not to think
jab, jink
go on instinct
“Kid!”
let ‘em scoff
helmet off and on the wall, foul ball
outlaw doll, canvas shawl
Squared-away Wasn’t-Born-Yesterday Ray What Say withdraws
from the pocket where he stocked it
tailored beret belayed his way
over the brow, low to the lobe
incomings plunging as they may
unbent, unbowed, proud
rising to the challenge
innards in the balance
as, as, as the outer glowers
tower watches
keyed on
bead on
tufted swatches
lead on
feed on
feet on fire
more required
shaky sketchy shifty tricky
ejection sticky fifty/.50
harried handler crosshair channeler
jerks hammer, cusses, fusses, fixes quickly
extracalibur lubed and glandular
transposed traveler
pinhole camera
jimi jammerer and raconteur
immature in the grandeur of Alamo losers, recruiting posters
smelling the roses, all Ray knows
is he’s no poser no voyeur
“You with us, sport?”
determined doer on a one-year tour
“All the way!”
catch up, lash up
running swift
and tall
as if
it were all
in the distance
when it’s not it’s near
or coexistent
“Get your –”
huh?
“unh!”
out of nowhere
force majeure
meets esprit de corps
can’t happen here
happened here
weird
disappeared
down and dirty
earthen gurney
way too early
flipped, thrashed
whiplashed
“It’s the Kid!”
soundless
stillness ominous
up against an invisible fence
never sensed
winces, clenches
“Jesus!”
wheezes
aspirate screeches sibilant screams
in-between
getting that hand-me-down, pissant-puny carbine clean
spic ‘n span the magazines
no time to zero in
“He’s hit!”
and you hate to say it’s nothing or, worse,
ask in light of last night where’s it coming from next
“This yours?”
St. Christopher and a broken braid
odd
barechested, upended
bewildered, heels forward
floored
hand to forehead
thwarted, bothered
circuits shorted, distorted, norms disordered
can’t absorb it neck contorted
mugged, clobbered, horse-collared
decked and routed
scalp metallic
rub the cowlick
snared
yet spared
throat laid bare
nylon garrote
inadvertently barbaric
bemoan and bear it
nod and point
hate to disappoint
“Fucking clothesline.”
splayed and supine
hurt worst at first
reverts in spurts
twirls, whirls
adrift
awash
a wispy wale
pale contrail
moon in full
mouth of wool
Baby’s laundry pail
luffed sail
closepinned flail
damp shirttail
left to dry
askew, awry
tinnitus
in the detritus
almost lost it
nauseous, noxious
aching coccyx
guess what stops it
kills the gossip
action rocks it
roll over
recover
drool and slobber
right the keel
kneel, totter
unreel
slow peeling
off of logy; poky; mopey; ugh, pukey;
crr-croaky to okey-dopey
“A hand?”
stand burping, gurgling
gag, stagger
no sandbagger or lollygagger
harmless braggart
prone to bluster
cut the crap
and the mustard
close the gap
carry the torch
last seen on the porch
a smile that asked did he dare
a question of when, the answer within:
deliverance goes to those who deliver
however wherever no matter when
swagger, sway
“Learn you to keep your head down, eh?”
“And, Kid – ”
“Ray. Ray.”
“Ray. One more thing – ”
“My jacket!”
he totally forgot it
one on the hook, other on the line
brain balks, ears squawk
introspective retrospective reconnected
cracks caulked
“Don’t let the first shirt see you without a helmet.”
sink or swim
it’s on him
in him not them
for them from them bless them
wish them well
one in heaven, one at the mill
hand on the wheel
bat out of hell
“Incredible.”
indelible
false alarm for the inevitable
another go, another limbo
____________________________________________________________
In recent years a number of Frank Light‘s poems, stories, and essays have been published, many of the essays from a draft memoir titled Adjust to Dust: On the Backroads of Southern Afghanistan.
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