Brad Johnson

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

I finally had something on my father.
I saved it away like a Christmas gift bought in June.
My grandma told me about how once, when he was six,
my dad came home and asked her why his peter got hard
whenever Wendy Roberts walked by.
My grandma told him it was because his shorts were too tight.

It was perfect.

Dad came down with my mom for Easter
and we went out for brunch with my wife.
After our orange juice was poured, I laid it on him
and his face reddened like a slapped ass.

It was perfect.

Then he said he had a story.
My mom said no but my wife insisted.
So he relates how he was a resident obstetrician
when I was born and how the nurse botched
my circumcision and he had to go back in and reshape it.

It was perfect.

I’d learned a lesson I’d learned before
and been cut down again.
My wife looked like she’d opened a Christmas gift
bought in June and spun her finger round
the rim of her orange juice glass.

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Brad Johnson lives in the margins of a Wes Anderson film and is still trying to figure out what his mother meant by singing him Smokey Robinson and The Miracles' "You Really Got a Hold on Me" and stressing the lyrics "I don't like you but I love you." He has two chapbooks Void Where Prohibited and The Happiness Theory available from Pudding House.