as a kid living across the street he was a giant
six foot seven, a laugh from the gut, never meek
once a center for the Spartans basketball team
nicknamed “Shorty” and at times inappropriate
being young I couldn’t help but think he was hilarious
whether getting the mail from Fred, walking the dog
or daydreaming while dribbling towards the rim
trees were the make-believe top of the Silverdome
I was a Detroit Piston
he once strolled a beach in Florida with a friend
no one for miles
finally one gentleman appeared, shouting, “Hi Shorty!”
on occasion he told stories at Nemo’s Bar in Detroit
golfed and did good for the less fortunate
once he was sick
papa and I would walk over to his room
he was quieter
our home, driveway outside his window
a seventies car chase on TV
smoke from wheels on gravel
papa straightened a hanger to clean his oxygen tube
metal into plastic
I glanced him
he made light of the instance
papa in his t-shirt
laughing at his comments, helping
he would leave on a Friday
sixteen years later I would meet my wife on the same day in July
less than three months passed
Pope John Paul II would hold mass in the Silverdome
I would wave to his helicopter from the street
in front of Mr. Krall’s unstirring bedroom
Joris Soeding
Joris Soeding’s most recent collections of poetry are After Highland Park (Origami Poems Project, 2021) and Forty (Rinky Dink Press, 2019). Soeding’s writing has appeared in publications such as Another Chicago Magazine, Poetry Pacific, and Tint Journal. He is a 2021 and 2022 Pushcart Prize nominee and fifth grade Language Arts teacher in Chicago, where he resides with his wife, son, daughter, and cats.
Portage Magazine 