My my!

My father was a bookmaker.
He wanted me to go straight
or so it seemed. I became an actor.
He saw me once. I was rotten to the core.
“Why can’t you play Einstein or a Brother.”
‘I’m sorry Dad but I’m not Black”
“Then play your mother!”
It was hard for him to accept my lot:
an Apache without a nation.
A half-breed in a stall afraid to come out.
But I stayed in there because I was gay
and my partner was old enough to be his father.
“Quit arguing with me, son. I’m gonna rub him out!”
“He’s ancient, Dad, and a philosopher!”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“But father, dear, the odds are good.
Someday we’ll all be accepted.”
“Come out of there whoever you are!”
And he did, Ole Mickie the Clown,
The Enforcer, I might add, and he had a prick
 pointing straight at my Dad’s temple.
“Listen, Cochise, your son’s zipper broke.
And I got this safety pin from the first usher I saw.”
A likely story but what was I to do?
Kiss them both and make up?
which I did and ushered them back to our movie.

Are you following me because I’m not.
My tongue is tied just thinking about it.
“God bless curse Rotterdamn!
Give me back my son, you reeking pansie!”
Dad meant well but he had a temper.
“We go up while you go down”
said that Clown while passing Dad on the escalator.
And the rest is history never to see him again.
Thank God nobody knows where we’re going.
But we’ll live on in inuendo.