The Brooks affair

I never thought about
until now
but the Brookses
Roy and Reggie made a regal couple
4 kids and a spider monkey going strong
Jessie and Leslie were the older boys
Charlene may have been the youngest
Pal was what his name said
Down's didn't dampen his enthusiasm
or ours
when I raced the go-cart
towards the highway
detouring into a driveway
to avoid a worse fate
I did shift the gears
while Jessie ran behind
I knew the gas and the clutch
but not the brake
so stalled it out
in the end
when my foot magically hit
the pedal that was unknown
to my foot

I think Roy ended up hang gliding
when water skiing
and demolition derbys lost their charm

I don't know
whether Brooks took
Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump
which, apart from the coulees
under the High Level Bridge
was probably the closest he could get
in Lethbridge
to real height and true thermals
in prairies
before they stumble
into foothills
and everything changes
where the sea bed has risen
and left ancient coral reefs
on the mountain tops

at some point
they lost Pal
we lost Pal
but his spirit soared
as Brooks sang on
strumming some invisible guitar
the head of its fretboard
he shortened habitually
with a capo
that kept him
in a certain range

I don't know if monkeys are like dogs
and whether chocolate was poison
to them
but Reggie's monkey always made a beeline
for the kitchen
and those plastic nesting containers
that held putative cake decorating supplies
Smartis
and hundreds and thousands
and Rosebuds
and Macintosh toffee
and whatever else Nielsen and Nestle had to offer

the monkey went for the Rosebuds
and was careless in the way he tipped
over the container
in a way he wasn't
when he unlatched the gate
in his cage
to break out
to start with

I don't know whether he ate the Rosebuds
but Reggie always gave a good chase
and the scene typically ended
with the monkey back
in his cage
and Reggie ironing
with the monkey
in clear view
starching collars
with a stoppered 7 Up bottle
every once in a while
letting the iron hiss
and spit its excess steam

and somehow the curtains were always drawn
even during the day
Reggie perhaps afraid
the monkey would look out the window
frightening the neighbours
even though his shadow wouldn't necessarily get
in the way

I'm not sure that monkey knew melody

from harmony

or rhythm either

I don't think he ever sang

but he frequently chimed

in

and I'm sure the patter

of his nails was accompaniment

of sorts

if he didn't have pads

on his hands and feet

to tap

out rhythm

for his various crimes

knocked over lamps

curtains torn

from their hooks

their I-beams bent

beyond reckoning

or repair

but Pal and the monkey had their day

spent their time

like bees returned to combs

running over

with hexagons of honey

knowing their job was done

before age

or health

or other inconsistencies took them

from me.