We were holding candles up to our children, trying to understand things that were so deep and apart of us, like breaking bottles and stealing dollar bills or holding turtles in our hands.
Our mothers would say, “go back and play” and we would just go back out and do these same things over and over again, we would pull snakes out of the grass with our child hands and run them back wrapping and snake piss stinky to show our them.
“Mom, look at this”
“Oh that is nice”
Oh how good that felt, but it wasn’t enough, we would go out again and again, “we need robin eggs boys, we need the hardest of things to find, we need honeycombed bee nests and tarantulas!” we were 5 and 6 and we would go out looking for these things. We would come back ever once and awhile filled with broken teeth and pirate booty.
“mother, look at this!... a dead robins head!”
“Oh Jesus Christ Jamie…”they would laugh and we would throw it on the ground.
“Ok boys, that didn’t impress them, but think we are on to something, we got a reaction, Jesse, are you ready?”
We were systematically stacking bricks and chunks of wood up and laying a piece of plywood over the top of them. Evel Knievel got a lot of attention. And Jesse would go jumping and dumping his forehead into the pavement with blood pouring out of his brain…
“Mom, Mom, screaming…” they would come running,
“What happened… Jesus, you fucking idiot”
I would pull them in slowly, my arms wrapping around them like the night and soft blankets. “I think we got them right where we want them” I would say…
Now they are paying attention to us, our mothers, our fathers.. they will know our velocity.