A Tom Mix lunchbox, first
day of school.
Tom Mix was his hero.
Danny from down the street
and he used to play the parts
in the lot back of the row houses
in a city where soot blew
instead of the hot dry winds
of the Hollywood desert
He carried his sandwiches,
some fruit,
all the way up to the sixth grade
in his Tom Mix lunchbox.
Danny from down the street
called him names when
he tried to bring his lunchbox
to school the first day
of seventh grade.
So he took it home and hid
it under his bed
and carried his lunch to school
in a brown paper bag
just like all the rest of the kids
He still liked Tom Mix though.
Over the next few years
he used the lunch box
to store those special things
that he found.
A rock that he was convinced
was actually the tooth
of a dinosaur.
A piece of some black stone
that glittered
and was probably a diamond
Some useful things
like a rubber ball
and two penny railroad stamps
Gradually, he stopped using
the lunchbox
he forgot about it completely
all through those busy years in school
all through those first years of work,
when he drifted from one thing to another
He settled as printerís devil for Sun Telegraph
Tom Mix resurrected from the dust
to accompany him again.
Virginia came into his life
God! he wanted Virginia
with unbelievable heat.
Most nights, they were saddled
with her kid sister.
Truly, this hastened their courtship
even though she was a nice enough kid
and not really that much bother.
They married in 1941
There were good years.
There were not so good years.
They lost their first child
before he had a chance to breathe.
But they had two children
who lived and prospered
Sun Telegraph closed.
Though heíd been a printerís devil
he became a man of God.
Tom Mix accompanied him
to the parish office
tucked into his briefcase
Carrying the lunches
that his Virginia made for him.
He loved Hershey Chocolate bars.
He grew older.
There were grandchildren.
Diabetes, that insidious
disease
crept into his life, hypodermics rattling
dragging itís paraphernalia
like some unwanted visitor
Enforcing itís own discipline
that he could not help challenging,
sneaking downstairs to his cache
of Hershey bars and gummi bears.
Diabetes took his strength
Diabetes stole his sight
rending from him
the prosaic pleasure of reading.
Diabetes took his leg
rotting him from the toes
to the knee.
Diabetes finally took his life.
Virginia cremated him
as he had requested
Flame reduces his body to soft ash.
Brushed into a heap,
drifted into this final receptacle
of enameled tin
his Tom Mix lunchbox accompanies him
on his final journey.