On The Courthouse Steps

I’m sitting on the throne
next to the tub thinking
these next couple of days
might be my
last in this
house.

The mortgage
company’s
disregarding the
judge’s dismissal of
foreclosure.

I’m gonna
holler even though
I haven’t made a house
payment in two years…

Not a single
payment on the
residence that
once belonged to
my parents.

The Old Man
sobered up here and,

before she
died,

Mom
said she
was gonna
give the place to me but
she didn’t put it in writing

so,

after mama’s passing,

my sister,
one brother and
I took to fighting and,

after much back stabbing
and biting,

my loan was
approved and I
bought
them
out.

My ex-girlfriend and
I lived together
here for 6 years.

Her two daughters
stayed part time.

Then, my other brother,
the one who said, “This is
your house.”

My other brother came to live
with me after diabetes
and sepsis took his
left leg and his
right eye.

He came to live
with me and, soon,
his first born baby girl
was living in my house, in
our house. And, soon, my
ex-girlfriend was asking my
niece and my sister, ” Why aren’t
you helping?”

Then my ex-girlfriend
moved out and became
my ex-girlfriend.

Then my brother died.

Then I rented his room
to a chronically depressed
graduate student with
Crohn’s Disease, drove
all over the United
States and came
home to make
a Recovery
Blues album.

Another one of my
dead brother’s daughters
came to live with me. She
brought her boyfriend. They
were hired on by Walmart and
they stayed a little over a year till
she became pregnant.

That’s when they
moved back
to Iowa.

Around that
time, I started
taking Joey, my
ex-girlfriend’s grandson, to
school in the morning and
I’d go to work in the afternoon
till work slowed down to
nothing and I started
missing mortgage
payments.

I didn’t care.
Tending to Joey and
looking for work was more
important than a mortgage
payment.

Playing the piano was more
important than the mortgage.

Chasing love was more important.

The next thing I knew, it was two
years and the mortgage hadn’t been
paid.

Cut and dried.

No argument…not from me.

Still the mortgage company
fucked up and the case was
dismissed.

Maybe they’re fuckin’ up by
saying, “Judge or no judge,
we’re foreclosin’
on your ass.”

I hope that’s what they’re doin’.

I guess I’ll find out Friday.

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About joefingas

I am a songwriter, poet, blues singer, and a boogie woogie piano player. I have a grandson but I have no children of my own. All my women have wised up and left me. I was a bum, a wino, a drug/alcohol counselor, a prevention/intervention specialist and a pretender. I have no more time to pretend.
This entry was posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, Love, Memoir, Money, Parenting, Poetry, Relationships, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to On The Courthouse Steps

  1. elvagreen123 says:

    Hey, suit up and show up, good luck!

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