We called my feral cousin Little Jimmy
son of Big Uncle Jimmy
a greasy-haired New Orleans roustabout.
Little Jimmy’s eight-year-old arm
broke through our storm door
shattered glass, blood, so many stitches
a wild, tortured body
searching, ungrounded
steeped in Louisiana trailer park chaos
expelled
evaluated, analyzed, diagnosed, medicated
expelled again.
He didn’t know his own weakness.
Little Jimmy
plays the drunk wallflower
his half-brother
half-Jewish
half-Mexican wedding
the bride sways and twirls
a dollar dance delirium
pinned bills flap
like trapped green butterfly wings
mariachis in full swing
playing the hora.
Little Jimmy
robs his brother at gunpoint
spiriting away
the dollar dance dress
disappearing on a motorcycle
in guilt of night.
He will only lean against hearses and
smoke at family funerals
staring through James Dean bangs
not welcome to shovel dirt.
He didn’t know his own weakness.
Little Jimmy
visits me
triumphant on a
shiny blue motorcycle
greeting me with his
meth-blackened mouth
the habit passed
the stain remains
an easy dismount
wiry adult figure more at ease
finding its place in the world
a master Audi mechanic
a husband
a father.
We drink sweet tea
produce Polaroids
pieces of our personal puzzles
a mezuzah on a New Iberia trailer
his mother’s glass eye swimming to the right
a futile escape effort
from that reality.
Little Jimmy’s little sister impregnated
by a homeless man
their parents had the heart
and foolishness
to take in.
The elopement, the FBI giving chase
when Jimmy and pregnant Penny ran away.
Jimmy’s twins, all grown up now.
Little Jimmy
leaves me with
uneasy sadness and
thoughts of a money dress
stripped bare.
His world
a world away from mine.
A few years later
he wrapped that shiny blue motorcycle
around a light pole in Rhode Island.
He didn’t know his own weakness.
Jennifer Shneiderman (she/her) is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker living in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in many publications, including: The Rubbertop Review, Writers Resist, Anti-Heroin Chic, Dwelling and The Perch. She received an Honorable Mention in the Laura Riding Jackson 2020 Poetry Competition. Twitter: @JenniferShneid3