Sucker punched - by Andrea M. Young

Sucker punched

Nine words
   He took me by surprise with a nine word e-mail and four of those were names

Hi Andrea,
   Bad news. Dennis Youn committed suicide
                   August

Physically repulsed,
by the screen,
by the keyboard,
I sucked in my breath and
jumped back
staring in horror
which caved
to disbelief

Dennis
I knew you in Cleveland
we sat poolside
you tried to guess girls’ bra sizes

I put my hand on your knee once
your skin was flawless
Oriental smooth
So unpresumptuous
even with your PhD in Chemistry
you were one of us
disgruntled at the injustices of the boss

You were working class

You married
and brought your too white
rich wife to California

Remember when she found a check
for $10,000 in her pocket and it was no big deal
Funny I only remember she was a blonde Italian girl
-   but white – so damned white

Some of the memories
Dennis
make me want to
throw up right now

What went wrong Dennis
How did you end up so alone in this world?
I could’ve imagined it of others Dennis
weaker willed,
less going for them,
but you always seemed . . .
And isn’t that always the surprise?
The least expected
never suspected
are always
the ones

Why has this grabbed me so hard?
A fist is squeezing my heart and my lungs
I have known people
who’ve killed themselves before
My cousin jumped from the Tappan Zee bridge years ago

But you are the first to commit suicide
like committing adultery
it’s a sin in my world
Although I can’t conceive
of a God who would punish
such an already tortured soul

Dennis
how did it get so bad?
so out of hand?
How did the scotch tape
holding your life together
become so brittle?
If I’d known
I would’ve bought duct tape
it’s silver shiny façade would’ve eased you through the days

Damn Dennis
your life is worth so much more
than five words
four if we ignore the “Hi”

Try as I might I cannot remember your wife’s name
it was more like a business arrangement
each contributing a portion to the common bills with your “own money left over”

Is that what happened Dennis?

I’m speaking to the darkness now
and an image floats
a dozen bagels devoured
you must’ve had feet that weighted 10,000 pounds
or the metabolism of an atomic bomb
because you remained a bean pole

And I remember your wife barely now
how she clung to you at the Christmas party
like an insecure child
her head on your shoulder
for most of the night

What happened Dennis?

It’s getting late
I’m scared of the darkness now
And Dennis one last thing please

What happened when you reached the other side?