A SELECTED POEM FROM PREVIOUS WRITING RON THOMAS WRITER
SQUEAKY CLEAN Ron Thomas Writer
In my third-grade summer I slid down an oat grass hill on a piece of hardwood. I got a sliver. An inch-long sliver of hardwood. My mother put me over her lap with my pants down below my knees. With my pants down my mother and a neighbor lady worked the sliver out. It was painful but I didn’t make a sound. The neighbor lady said I was a good soldier. Besides I knew I was okay. I was okay because I had on clean underwear. The neighbor lady saw my bony white bottom but she also saw clean underwear. Mom always said to make sure our underwear was clean in case we ever got in an accident. Growing up we weren’t rich. We weren’t rich and there were eleven of us. Eleven kids with mismatched socks. Mismatched socks and holes in the knees of our jeans. Holes in the knees of our jeans but our underwear was clean.
Ron Thomas Writer
My mother’s sister scoffed at my mother. That’s too much washing these kids changing their underwear every day! My mother’s sister was Italian and very excitable. She yelled a lot and waved her hands. You got too many kids! We hid behind couches when she came around so she wouldn’t see the house littered with kids. From behind the couch we heard her yell I change my underpants every two days! One day I wear them right side out and the next day I wear them inside out! My mother was swinging a mop back and forth over the kitchen linoleum like she was a mad hockey player. I can’t tell my kids to wear their underwear inside out. A mad hockey player defending in our corner. From behind the couch we stayed invisible but breathed easy. We breathed easy and came out from behind the couch. Ron Thomas Writer
We came out from behind the couch and grew old. Even today I need clean underwear. My wife says I got a fetish. My sister-in-law in Idaho says my mother made the whole family crazy. A crazy family who like clean underwear. My sister-in-law in Idaho made me two pair of boxer shorts and sent them for my birthday. They’re nicely made. Nicely made with fine stitching and a red white and blue pattern. I feel mildly patriotic when I wear them. Mildly patriotic but there is a problem. She stained the bottom of each pair with a long skid of brown. Long skid of brown that’s indelible. When I called her she just laughed. She laughed more when I told I tried to wash it out. It’s indelible. It’s indelible and her laughter was hysterical. Through her hysterical laughter she dared me to wear those shorts out driving. I never will. Ron Thomas Writer
I never will because I could get into an accident. I could get into an accident so I just stay home on the days I wear those shorts. I stay home remembering mom, the neighbor lady, and the oat grass hill. Sometimes I think of the inch-long sliver. I smile at how I soldiered through the pain. I soldiered through the pain and in my fine stitched shorts, I’m feeling mildly patriotic. Ron Thomas Writer
In my third-grade summer I slid down an oat grass hill on a piece of hardwood. I got a sliver. An inch-long sliver of hardwood. My mother put me over her lap with my pants down below my knees. With my pants down my mother and a neighbor lady worked the sliver out. It was painful but I didn’t make a sound. The neighbor lady said I was a good soldier. Besides I knew I was okay. I was okay because I had on clean underwear. The neighbor lady saw my bony white bottom but she also saw clean underwear. Mom always said to make sure our underwear was clean in case we ever got in an accident. Growing up we weren’t rich. We weren’t rich and there were eleven of us. Eleven kids with mismatched socks. Mismatched socks and holes in the knees of our jeans. Holes in the knees of our jeans but our underwear was clean.
Ron Thomas Writer
My mother’s sister scoffed at my mother. That’s too much washing these kids changing their underwear every day! My mother’s sister was Italian and very excitable. She yelled a lot and waved her hands. You got too many kids! We hid behind couches when she came around so she wouldn’t see the house littered with kids. From behind the couch we heard her yell I change my underpants every two days! One day I wear them right side out and the next day I wear them inside out! My mother was swinging a mop back and forth over the kitchen linoleum like she was a mad hockey player. I can’t tell my kids to wear their underwear inside out. A mad hockey player defending in our corner. From behind the couch we stayed invisible but breathed easy. We breathed easy and came out from behind the couch. Ron Thomas Writer
We came out from behind the couch and grew old. Even today I need clean underwear. My wife says I got a fetish. My sister-in-law in Idaho says my mother made the whole family crazy. A crazy family who like clean underwear. My sister-in-law in Idaho made me two pair of boxer shorts and sent them for my birthday. They’re nicely made. Nicely made with fine stitching and a red white and blue pattern. I feel mildly patriotic when I wear them. Mildly patriotic but there is a problem. She stained the bottom of each pair with a long skid of brown. Long skid of brown that’s indelible. When I called her she just laughed. She laughed more when I told I tried to wash it out. It’s indelible. It’s indelible and her laughter was hysterical. Through her hysterical laughter she dared me to wear those shorts out driving. I never will. Ron Thomas Writer
I never will because I could get into an accident. I could get into an accident so I just stay home on the days I wear those shorts. I stay home remembering mom, the neighbor lady, and the oat grass hill. Sometimes I think of the inch-long sliver. I smile at how I soldiered through the pain. I soldiered through the pain and in my fine stitched shorts, I’m feeling mildly patriotic. Ron Thomas Writer