{"id":7421,"date":"2019-07-21T01:45:26","date_gmt":"2019-07-21T06:45:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?p=7421"},"modified":"2020-09-04T04:54:54","modified_gmt":"2020-09-04T09:54:54","slug":"good-as-i-can-be","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/good-as-i-can-be\/","title":{"rendered":"Good as I Can Be"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div><\/div>\n

Gale Acuff<\/a><\/h2>\n

Original Online Poetry<\/h4>\n

<\/p>\n

Good as I Can Be<\/strong><\/em> by Gale Acuff contains two heartfelt poems, Passion and Starch,<\/em> that chronicle the struggle of a young boy growing up in a confusing world.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div><\/div>\n

Passion<\/h4>\n
\n

I love you, Miss Hooker, I say before
\nI go to sleep every night, to my
\npillow. She’s my Sunday School teacher and
\nI imagine that we’re married and hold
\neach other close, though my pillow has no
\narms but I can hug enough for two
\nand it doesn’t really matter if she
\nholds me, too, because I can protect her
\nthis way. It’s Saturday night and I’ll wake
\nearly tomorrow and dress and eat my
\nscrambled eggs, which I cook myself because
\nMother and Father sleep in on Sundays.
\nThen I’ll walk to church and be the first one<\/p>\n

in the classroom and the last to leave\u2014if
\nI’m going to go to Heaven one day
\nI have to get as much God as I can
\nand I might not go at all because I
\nsin and too much but enough to go to
\nHell if I should die without a final
\nprayer for forgiveness. I’m trying hard.
\nMiss Hooker’s 25 and I’m just 9<\/p>\n

and the odds of us getting married aren’t
\nvery good even if I knew how to
\ngamble, which I don’t, and that’s another
\nsin anyway. If Miss Hooker can wait
\nuntil I’m old enough I’ll have a shot
\nat her but I can’t count on that, she’s so
\nbeautiful, red hair and green eyes and legs
\nthat I’m sure she shaves, I got a good look
\nonce and that was sin but it was mine, not
\nhers, and anyway I prayed like crazy
\nlater that God would forgive me\u2014maybe
\nHe didn’t but I did put in my time.
\nBut if I can never marry her then<\/p>\n

I’ve got to be as good as I can be
\nso that I can go to Heaven when I
\ndie, and see her, and if I die first then
\nI want to greet her when she gets there so
\nmy best chance of spending time with her comes
\nnot in this life but the next. Of course, I
\nspend time with her in Sunday School class but
\nso do my classmates, and anyway here
\nwe’re supposed to spend our time studying
\nthe Bible and not falling in love but
\nI can’t help myself, I want to do both,
\nbut sometimes God gets in the way of love
\nand sometimes love gets in the way of God,
\nor maybe that’s just two ways of saying
\nthe same thing. I’d like to ask Miss Hooker
\nbut I never get her alone except<\/p>\n

when class is finished and there’s only boy
\nand woman left, and Jesus on the wall
\nwhere He’s hanging from His crucifix
\nlike the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz<\/em>
\nbut not exactly. I’d like to free Him,
\nthough, the way Dorothy did her man of straw.
\nI always walk Miss Hooker to her car
\nand open the door for her and try not<\/p>\n

to look at her legs and the secret there
\nwhere they end at her belly, where babies
\ncome from, I think, but I can’t ask her that
\nand when I ask my parents all they say
\nis You’ll learn soon enough<\/em> or We’ll tell you<\/em>
\nlater<\/em> or Well, would you like a cookie<\/em>
\nor Go outside and play with the dog,<\/em> but
\nwe don’t have one. I shut the door for her<\/p>\n

and she buckles up and starts her engine
\nand turns to me and always says, Goodbye,<\/em>
\nthough that Sunday she slipped and said Good night,<\/em>
\nthen laughed and I laughed but still she turned red,
\nlike her hair but still more pink than scarlet,
\nI’m not sure why but she could tell me if
\nshe wanted to, she’s sharp, but never has
\nor God never lets her and if I go
\nto the source He<\/em> never tells me, either.<\/p>\n

Tonight I’ll go to bed as usual,
\nturn out my light and crawl inside and hold
\nMiss Hooker close and ask her if she’s had
\na good day and if she’s still satisfied
\nshe married me and if she’d like to have
\na baby or two, or a dozen, and
\nwhat we can name them but I never ask
\njust how to make them because I don’t want
\nher to think I’m an idiot even
\nif the truth is she’s only a pillow.
\nIn the darkness I know God is watching
\nand can kill me in a snap whenever
\nHe wants to. Sometimes I want Him to
\nbut I’m devoted to Miss Hooker\u2014she’s
\nmy girl. Maybe I don’t know her first name
\nand am too scared to ask her but I know
\nshe loves God, Who loves her, and maybe me,
\nas much as I’m able to understand
\nuntil I get a little older, say
\n13, and start shaving, and speaking with
\nthe tongue of a man. And then I’ll show her.<\/p>\n

\"Good<\/p>\n

Starch<\/h4>\n

You couldn’t find your butt with both hands,<\/em> he
\nsays, my father, after I tell him I’ve lost
\nmy allowance, a whole quarter, which buys
\na lot in ’66\u2014two comic books
\nat 12 cents each, and a penny for tax.
\nWell, you’re not getting anymore,<\/em> he says,
\nuntil next Friday. If then.<\/em> He turns. I
\nwant to cry but I don’t–he’ll just get mad
\nall over again. Mother slips a dime
\nto me. It’s better than nothing. Thanks,
\nI say. Be careful with money,<\/em> she says.
\nShe walks quickly to catch up to Father<\/p>\n

here at the shopping center. We just ate
\nsupper at the cafeteria, where
\nI ordered spaghetti and french fries, or
\ntried to–Father nixed that. No,<\/em> he says. No<\/em>
\none orders two starches that way.<\/em> I say
\nHuh? Pasta and potatoes,<\/em> he says. That<\/em>
\nwon’t fly.<\/em> I don’t want ’em to fly, I think
\n\u2014I want ’em to eat. But I bite my tongue.
\nWhat I get is spaghetti and green beans,
\ngreen like greenbacks. I count them. 30? I
\neat about half of them but all the spaghetti.<\/p>\n

Now I have 10 cents to pop and I need
\n3 more for a comic book, including
\ntax, so I hit the asphalt parking lot
\nand look for coins that shoppers have dropped but
\nall I find are cigarette butts, bottle
\ncaps, and burnt wooden matches. I even
\ngo back to the car and search between seats
\nand under floormats. There’s a bobby pin
\nand two paper clips. But no Lincoln heads.<\/p>\n

So if I can’t buy Superman<\/em> I’ll have
\nto buy 10 cents’ worth of candy instead
\nand, heck, we’ve got that at home. If Father
\ncomes through for me next Friday then I’ll have
\n35 cents if I don’t spend Mother’s
\nsympathy-dime. That’s 7 days from now,
\nor the weekend plus 5 more school days. I<\/p>\n

can hang on, I guess. I’ll show ’em. And if
\nFather decides not to give me my due,
\nnot that it’s really mine or I deserve
\nit but if he doesn’t he doesn’t love
\nme\u2026 I’ve been standing in the parking lot
\nso long this summer evening my sneakers
\nhave melted to the blacktop. I’m going
\nto find them, my folks, and put it to them:
\nI don’t want your money. And drop the dime<\/p>\n

back in Mother’s hand and tell Father
\nI’m not for sale at any price, then go
\nback to the car and sit in the rear seat
\nwith the windows rolled up and the doors locked
\nand die from the heat and my CO2<\/sub>
\nby the time we meet up. That’ll fix ’em.<\/p>\n

On the other hand, I’ll be out a dime
\nand that’s a lot to pay for a principle
\nand not enough to boot. I’m not so dumb
\n\u2014it’s hard to be a hero. If I am.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\"Good<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\n

Dr. Gale Acuff<\/strong> is a member of the faculty in the Department of Modern Languages, English Faculty of Arts, Arab American University, in Zababdeh, Palestine<\/a>.
\n

<\/div><\/p>\n<\/div>\n
Read poems by Joseph Roque at Faith Hope & Fiction<\/a><\/div>
<\/div>\n
\n

Those who liked Good as I Can Be<\/em> may also like the poem: “Last Vows<\/a>” at Faith Hope and Fiction.<\/p>\n

For more information on this website, visit our About page: Quality Online Fiction<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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