by David Bates
when he grows up
he wants to be a UFO pilot
he tugs my sleeve
and his father reminds him
to be careful
not to spill people’s beer
go inside
his father says
this is grown up time
can I play your
Playstation dad?
No. Leave my shit alone.
I imagine my friend
on his beerstink couch
with a video-game pad
plugged into the base of his boy’s skull
thumbing him around the room
like a remote controlled
vacuum cleaner
the kid looks at me
and I shrug
earlier
he’d asked me
if I was born with
tattoos
and his father said
don’t be stupid
before I could tell him
yes
as a matter of fact
I was
***
David Bates currently resides in Austin, TX. He is the co-founder and editor of My Favorite Bullet (www.myfavoritebullet.com) and Interior Noise Press. His work has appeared in FriGG Magazine, Underground Voices, Whiskey Island, Thunder Sandwich, and Zygote In My Coffee. He hosts the Ruta Maya Poetry Open Mic every Tuesday (www.rmpoetryaustin.com) and will buy a beer for any traveling poet who cares to read.
Opium Poetry Blogzine 
that’s a damn fine poem, dave.