{"id":26616,"date":"2014-10-19T10:01:43","date_gmt":"2014-10-19T16:01:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/?p=26616"},"modified":"2023-12-04T18:24:04","modified_gmt":"2023-12-05T00:24:04","slug":"sunday-blog-read-jerry-vanleperen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/sunday-blog-read-jerry-vanleperen\/","title":{"rendered":"READ LOCAL First: Jerry Vanleperen"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Jerry\"<\/a><\/p>\n

READ LOCAL First is your glimpse into the working minds and hearts of Utah\u2019s literary writers. Each month, 15 Bytes offers works-in-progress and \/ or recently published work by some of the state\u2019s most celebrated and promising writers of fiction, poetry, literary non-fiction and memoir.<\/p>\n

Today, 15 Bytes features Salt Lake City-based Jerry Vanleperen<\/strong>, an editor\u00a0at the poetry journal\u00a0Sugarhouse Review<\/a> which is\u00a0approaching its fifth anniversary.\u00a0Here he provides three as yet unpublished poems from his Old Marine series, featuring a curmudgeonly social outlier you’re not likely soon to forget.<\/p>\n

Sunday Blog Read continues to accrue a distinguished group of established and emerging Utah writers for your review and enjoyment.<\/p>\n

So curl up with your favorite cup of joe and enjoy the work of Jerry!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Old Marine Off the Hook<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Old Marine Off the Hook<\/p>\n

Tuesday is garbage
\nday, always has been since
\nthe mayor started
\nRecycle Mondays. Says
\nit’s a green, serene
\nstart of the week.<\/p>\n

I say he’s
\na son of a bitch.<\/p>\n

The wife was going
\nto get her hair colored
\nalong with nails on her feet
\nor maybe it was her
\nhands. Tells me do this
\nand that. Gotta be done
\nbefore she’s back,
\nso I don’t catch
\nno hell.<\/p>\n

I put on her slippers
\nthe ones she walks
\naround the garden in,
\nbecause they’re closest
\nto the door.<\/p>\n

I check the mail and
\nof course, it hasn’t come.
\nAn hour late for each
\ncent those bloodsuckers
\nraise on postage. Doesn’t
\nmatter, the women’s underwear
\nstore hasn’t sent a catalog in months.<\/p>\n

I start to pull the trash
\ncan towards the garage
\nwhen a maniac woman
\ncomes down screaming on
\nthe sidewalk.<\/p>\n

I can’t tell what
\nin God’s Christ plate
\nshe’s hollering about.
\nI consider slapping her.<\/p>\n

Got the feeling
\nfrom how wild she is
\nshe’s got a grandkid stuck
\nin the garage door.<\/p>\n

I know what that’s about.
\nSeen a lot of toes
\ngo missing, lots of cripples
\nbecause of that red emergency
\nlever that hangs
\nlike a sweet candy for kids.<\/p>\n

We’re half way through
\nthe neighborhood and the lady
\nstarts making more sense.
\nSays her husband is drunk,
\nbipolar and needs to
\nget to the VA before it’s
\ntoo late.<\/p>\n

If he’s an Air Force man
\nmight be easy, might not have
\nto bloody up my wife’s slippers.<\/p>\n

God help us and especially him
\nif he’s a drunken sailor, woken up
\non the wrong side of the afternoon.<\/p>\n

We get inside the house and the lady
\ngoes to the back bedroom
\nI inspect the layout. Same as mine
\nBut I won’t trade, don’t like the look
\nof their recliners. Is there a bigger
\nneedle in the crotch than
\npeople who own a grandfather clock?
\nProbably, but boy, I can’t think of it.<\/p>\n

She calls me to come back
\nand for one moment I remember
\nher saying bipolar. I think of my wife.
\nI think of a drunk grunt
\nwho might keep
\nas many guns around
\nas I do.<\/p>\n

I go into the bedroom, back braced
\nagainst the hall wall in case he shoots
\nand I have to kick ass.<\/p>\n

But he’s really a sad sack of bones
\nsitting on the bed, shaking my hand
\nasking if he can just sleep.<\/p>\n

His wife calls him a fool,
\nsays there ain’t no insurance
\nand they need to get to the VA<\/p>\n

She pushes him off the bed,
\nyells for me to grab his feet.
\nHe just wants to sleep
\nAnd she keeps calling him a fool.<\/p>\n

We drag him down the hall,
\nprobably getting carpet burns
\nalong his torso like sliced pig.
\nPoor bastard.<\/p>\n

At the front door he gets
\nto his feet. We get him on the porch,
\nhe grabs the railing
\nlike it’s his last possession
\non Earth after a tornado.<\/p>\n

His wife begins punching him
\nIt’s Smokin’ Joe Frazier with
\nold wrinkly knockers.
\nHe loses his grip and she calls him
\nfool and lands a right cross
\njust to be clear, she’s a real
\nball buster.<\/p>\n

Then we get him in the passenger seat
\nof their golden Taurus.
\nShe says she’s got to go lock up
\nthe house, hands me a roll
\nof duct tape to secure him
\nin the car. My wife is due back
\nat anytime, so I wrap this poor
\nbastard up in the silver tape.<\/p>\n

I say good luck and good riddance
\nand head home to take in the trash.<\/p>\n

I heard news stories about mothers
\nwho don’t want no more kids
\nand drive a van full of em into lakes.
\nI wonder if they’re really going
\nto the VA, how long fingerprints
\nstay on wet duct tape.<\/p>\n

This was all years ago. Now recycle day
\nis on Tuesday, same as garbage day.
\nMy wife says the man
\ndown the street just died,
\ndiabetes. Says he was a serviceman,
\nasks if I knew him.
\nI say no.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Old Marine on Movies, Marriage and the Flaming Jalapeno<\/strong><\/p>\n

The VA has me on new medicine,
\ngives me the cotton mouth
\ndries my lips up like a Nevada whore.<\/p>\n

I want to tell the clerk a thing
\nor two and when my mouth
\ngets wet enough I say<\/p>\n

You should sue!
\nI couldn\u2019t find anywhere to park
\nsince that damn Flaming Jalapeno
\nopened up.<\/p>\n

Might be different
\nif I could stomach Mexican.
\nBut I get the burrito splatter
\nsomething awful.
\nHow is this movie?<\/p>\n

But that dope doesn’t say anything
\njust oogles my Corps tattoo.
\nSo I raise the video higher<\/p>\n

This one here
\nVirgins of Sherwood Forest.
\nIs it pretty good?<\/p>\n

Then this bum squints and I
\nset the movie down in front of him<\/p>\n

My wife would wonder
\nwhat a man my age
\nthinks bringing home
\nSherwood virgins. But boy,
\nit looks interesting.<\/p>\n

I don’t have time for this dumb mute,
\nmy wife’s waiting in my car outside
\nbut something about him
\nreminds me of Vernal, back when
\nI lived out East
\nwith roughneck oilers, real tough guys.<\/p>\n

One night we all watched Pretty Woman,
\nand it was a good show.
\nI tell you, I\u2019d let Julie Roberts give me the clap.<\/p>\n

If I thought this kid had any clue
\nhow to work the register I’d rent Pretty
\nWoman, but I walk right out
\nin case my wife tries to turn
\nNora’s radio.<\/p>\n

My wife tries to get my attention
\nwants to know why I didn’t rent a thing
\nbut I just stare at every son of a bitch
\ncoming out of the Flaming Jalapeno.<\/p>\n

is on Tuesday, same as garbage day.
\nMy wife says the man
\ndown the street just died,
\ndiabetes. Says he was a serviceman,
\nasks if I knew him.
\nI say no.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Old Marine in Mourning<\/strong><\/p>\n

I haven’t seen the assholes
\nhollering on the Price is Right
\nin a week.
\nBeen to funerals
\nand burials each morning.<\/p>\n

I can stand to look
\nat the bodies in the caskets,
\nbut boy I hate to.
\nI knew those pricks.<\/p>\n

Charlie Trowbridge, Rowdy McGovern,
\nStumpy Nate, and Trenchmouth,
\nthe entire Tuesday night poker table,
\nall gone into the ground.<\/p>\n

Most of the time
\nat the cemetery they got
\nthe color guard,
\neven let the Coast Guard
\nvets get involved.<\/p>\n

None of em can fold
\nthe flag as tight as it should be.
\nBunch of fat-asses,
\nwith their bifocals and bellies.<\/p>\n

If it weren’t for my wife
\nI’d be out there
\nrifle in glove.<\/p>\n

I get home and push
\nthe obituary pages
\noff the recliner.
\nThe wife puts on a movie,
\nbut I can’t seem to give
\na good goddamn.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

Jerry VanIeperen is a man with one wife, two kids, and one dog in Salt Lake City, UT. He earned an MFA from the University of Nebraska and in 2009 became a founding editor of Sugar House Review. His poems have appeared in Redactions, burntdistrict, Plainsongs, Black Rock & Sage, The Northville Review<\/em> and elsewhere. He is a terrible bowler but not bad at Trivial Pursuit. You can listen to audio recordings of poems from Sugarhouse Review [here.]<\/a>
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

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