issue56bradchap5

                                                                  ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM

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BREAD & WATER

    Slam is the sound you remember in the morning when you awake clutching your bald head as the guards scream. That incredibly heavy slam of the steel cage—right after they strip-searched you and shaved your head.
     Off ship punishment this time, just for taking the time to drink a cold beer and eat a chili dog on Navy time.
Under that hot summer southern California sun—felt good to take off my uniform shirt—eyes protected by shades— my mind protected from boredom by imagination, medicines, and that cold beer + chili dog.
     Got ratted out by our resident Marine Sgt. Gunfuck. Wasn’t supposed to be out of uniform or out of place or out of mind.
     Bread & water.
     3 days.
     Long Beach Naval Brig.
     The Filipino guards were cruel. They wanted to serve their white military masters well so they wouldn’t have to go back to the hell of their island home—because of course home had already been destroyed by their white military masters.
     I touched my bald head.
     I am an egg-man.
    Getting hardboiled.
    Breathing in; breathing out.
    Meditating while forced to stand at attention for an hour at a time.
    Slam.
    Slam.
    Slam is the sound you remember … dreaming of coconut
shells, sometimes empty; sometimes full.