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Gina's Cluttered Basement

By David ParhamPublished 2 years ago 2 min read
Photo by Tetiana Shevereva on Unsplash

Gina's Cluttered Basement

If my life and the words I'm writing ever become a movie

This here is a pivotal scene

And Gina's basement is where it takes place

Me sitting amongst the junk and debris

Gina made her way slowly down the stairs

Toward confrontation


And maybe understanding

If this was going to work I have to keep cool

Tolerant mindset.

I was sitting on a piece of thrown-away furniture

A chair with the stuffing falling out

Something that could have easily been repaired

But got thrown away instead

Johnny, what are you doing down here?

Just looking at part of the house I hadn't seen yet.

Gina said, let's go back upstairs, it's cold down here

In a minute

She bowed her head toward the floor

She knew what was coming

When I started seeing you I felt Lucky's presence

Here in this house

The ghost we pretended not to see or talk about

I knew I was moving in

With all that he possessed

His furniture

His toothbrush and razor are still in the bathroom

But, most important, his beautiful wife

Is that why you were so slow moving out of your mother's

I took my time because I didn't want to upset ma

Aren't you the good boy

I ignored the dig

Gina, I was okay living with Lucky's ghost

Even if his ghost was in my own head

Something I made up

Gina interrupted, I tried to make you feel welcome, Johnny

Like the man of the house

Rubbed your feet, cooked your meals

Did you do those things for Lucky?

I did everything to try and keep that man home at night

Cooking and cleaning and foot rubs were just starters

I degraded myself in ways I never thought possible

Begging, crying, clinging to his legs as he walked out the


He always chose some mobbed-up card game over me

A dangerous place for a man who lost as much as he did

Then he'd beg my mother for cash

So he wouldn't come home empty handed

If it makes you feel better, Johnny nothing in this house

Belongs to Lucky

All the money Luck made was gambled away

My mother bought the house for us, it's in my name

I furnished it with my own money

I even had to sell our bedroom set to pay the mortage

The bedroom set was a wedding gift from Max

So at least your not sleeping where Luck slept

Max had such a blind spot with him

The final straw was Lund and Langmore

The big mob-style sendoff

Maxine wanted to pay for it

That crappy little fun-house in Newark

That was my final F-you to my husband

Who left me a widow. And a single mom

so if you wonder why I shower an inordinate

Amount of attention on you, it's because

My heart can't take another man walking out that door

I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, John.

So will I, Gina.

I just don't want to wear the man's clothes

You can wear whatever you want just don't leave me.

social commentarysad poetry

About the Creator

David Parham

Writer, Filmmaker, Digital artist.

The ever Changing Complexities of Life, Fear, Mysteries and Capturing that which may not be there Tomorrow.

Complex, Change, Fear, Mystery, Tomorrow & Capture. Six reasons I write.

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    David ParhamWritten by David Parham

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