No Kind Of Home

One night, they fought harder than they ever had. They had always settled things with a ‘sorry’ and a kiss. But not that night. He had started going at the bottle much more than he used to. He’d go out to the Copper Coin after taking care of his mother and her addiction. He hated her for never backing him up when that bookie would talk to her. He thought she humored him. And after that fight, he did the same thing. Went out to the bar and drank himself into a stupor. “Where were you every night that I woke up alone?” Cold sweat keeps you up. “This ain’t no kind of home.” “Come pick me up.” “Damn those boys at the bar, damn the way that you drink.” Cold sweat, sleepless nights, when your hands start to shake. “Damn that pier where you sit, damn your vengeance for him. There’s no bringing him back, your father is buried and dead. But you can’t let go of that hero’s death. And you’ve been left with debt. You couldn’t fight for your country and your mother is an addict. “How dare you?” “This ain’t no kind of home.” “Damn that man that you humour, he only wants one thing from you. Damn those looks that you give him. Parlour tricks and I’m played for a fool.”