Response to Robert Frost's
"NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY"

By Dapharoah69

Man's second sense for lust
His thinking: southward
The forbidden fruit symbolizes Alpha and Omega
The punishment for
Eve's split second decision
Blindness succumb to the flaming scimitar
In destruction...nothing Gold can Stay
The sun rises on the newborn
The sun sets on shadows
hovering over the grave.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Miami, Florida
August 2005
Murshol Apartments

My name was Harry. I lived with HIV. I contracted it in 2001, when I was twenty-five years old. That was a time in my life I didn't want to remember. My 20s and 30s were bittersweet memories. To remember would mean that I had to relive the consequences of my choices.

My dead-beat dad, Dime, bashed me for being gay. He would tell anyone that would listen. He put out filthy rumors that I had AIDS because I let random men stick their erections inside of me. His words, not mine. If I had a son, I could never say that hateful thing to him. I would rather die before I hurt my child. Thank God I wasn't a father. I could barely take care of myself pr buy a can of soda once my paycheck is spent on bills, bills, bills. So many bills I could be the fourth member of Destiny's Child.

If my father, dad, sperm donor, thought my feelings were hurt then he was sadly mistaken. I'd been talked about all my natural life. I'd been bullied, abused and shamed. I never complained. I cried in private. Words were like flies. I fanned then away, but they'd always return in different forms. I learned then that energy never died. I had thick skin. I'd been through too much crap in my life than to worry about what people said about me. Jesus died for the sins of man after being spat on and hung on a cross. If I had to die for these selfish people on earth, everybody would be dead. Not me. That proved that putting others before yourself wasn't necessarily a good thing, especially when they took advantage of you.

For Dime to put those with HIV in the same bracket was sheer lunacy. I tried to educate him about the virus. It was not the end of my story. I had a lot more living to do. I was still young. I wasn't always going to do the right thing. Wasn't I entitled to make a mistake or a bad decision? How else was I going to learn.

My dad had already taken so much from me.  Nearly a decade ago he was once locked up for murder, but he was later released on a technicality around my twenty-third birthday. Instead of taking advantage of his second chance, he robbed a bank and escaped with half a million dollars. After he laid low for a few months, he bought his way into a Pharmaceutical black-tie event and wooed some kingpin's only daughter, an influential politician with deep ties in the drug world.

The way Dime charmed his way into billions of dollars in less than a year was legendary. He married her, killed the kingpin, pimped out his sisters-in-law to the elite and took over a family business that spanned five generations. I never cared for his backstory.

I pushed thoughts of my gangster father aside as I entered my kitchen. It was a quarter past one p.m. I put on a small pot of grits since I hadn't eaten anything today. I glanced at a bottle of multi vitamins. From my stereo jazz soothed me. My phone rang. I answered. "Hello."

"Don't sound so excited to hear my voice," Dime said. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not."

"I need for you to go with me to the barbershop. "

"What if I was busy, Dime?"

"It's 'Dad' to you."

"Whatever, sperm donor."

I hadn't seen him in months. Plus, I needed a shape up. I didn't have the energy to fight, so I went with him. Not to mention this was the fifth time my Dad and I was in the same space together. During the fifteen-minute drive, he kept trying to convince me that I was going through a gay phase.

"Did you get any pussy before switching to the Boy George/George Michael leagues?"

"Ugh, dad!" I ignored him. Sadly, he never taught or showed me how to be a man ever in my life. I had to fend for self. It was at that point I regretted coming with him. He never taught me how to change a tire, he never hugged me, he never said he was proud of me, and he never taught me a thing about life. When we arrived at the barbershop on Eureka Drive, the place was packed with different shades of black folk, a few Latina chicks and a white boi with gold teeth and dreadlocks.

Dime, like a super star (ghetto), entered with a smile.  I was thrown by the love he received from everyone, because I barely liked him. A few people were acting funny towards me while they kissed Dime's ass. Dime was the money. I was his unimpressed gay son. The gay son of a billionaire.

Dime always bought these boisterous dudes top shelf liquor. He gave money to his community. The hypocrisy in that was obvious. You fund the same community your drugs destroyed? Politicians loved my father. My dad has sponsored many political campaigns. I tolerated him. He barely paid child support.

"Aye, ladies..." A group of four scantily clad women approached him. He handed the tall chocolate sister his SUV keys.

"Get every bottle of alcohol out the back of my vehicle and hand them out to my people in here. Get y'all a bottle off the top."

"Thank you, daddy," said the ladies in unison, looking like a girl band in the making.

The four chocolate ladies handed out free bottles of Patron and Hennessy to the grownups. Sighing, Dime sat down in Big Lil Irk's barber chair, and they slapped palms.

Raunchy music boomed from the big DJ speakers in the corner of the room. Big Lil Irk put the barber's cape across Dime's chest.

"Thanks for the bottle of Patron, bruh-bruh," said Lil Big Irk, with dandruff flakes all over his collar.

Dime nodded. "It's nothing, bruh-bruh."

"You have some sexy females on your arm. I envy you. Your wife doesn't trip on you about that?"

Dime gave a knowing gaze. "You can't trip on the breadwinner, young dude. Plus, I don't know those females."

"I hear you, but that's a $300 bottle, Dime. Brothas aren't just handing out expensive liquor."

"Your twenty dollars-a-head customers don't pay you three thousand dollars for a shape up, but I do. Money ain't a thing. Good to see you. It's been a while."

Big Lil Irk cut his eyes at me. "I see you brought your gay ass son up in here. I heard they call him fresh and fruity."

I gave Big Lil in-the-closet Irk the side-eye. 

Dime chuckled. "Yea, I was coming alone, but he wanted me to come here with him," he lied. "I told him Sissy's-R-Us isn't my style, but you're my son so fuck it. Let's roll. You know I have a reputation to uphold."

"Aye, Harry," said Big Lil Irk, snickering with the twelve other homophobic barbers in the establishment. "Man...why are you making your gangster father look bad out in these streets? Your daddy is worth two billion fucking dollars. You can buy every ho in the world with that kind of money, and you like dick."

"Fuck you, man," I said, trying to keep my bearings, but my gas light was blinking, and it was in danger of turning red before I mentally run out of gas.

"Why are you embarrassing your moneyed father?"

"I'm doing the same thing your baby's mama does to your ass when she put Missing flyers up all over Dade County with your face on it, wondering have we seen your bum ass because child support and your children haven't."

Laughter erupted from the patrons. Dime snickered, gazing at me. Big Lil Irk frowned. "All this pussy out here and you want a man. Why, Harry? Men weren't born to be fucked in the..."

"I don't know why, nigga. Ask your Mama," I retorted. I hated using the N-word, but in this world, we had niggas, like this high school dropout, secret crackhead.

"Nah, tell me, Harry. Have you banged any dudes in my barbershop?"

"I don't do the banging, bum."

Big Lil Irk went on a rampage. He stormed up to a couple of brothas standing by the big screen TV. "Any of you niggas slept with this sissy?" he asked them.

"We don't know that dude, yo, chill," said one of the brothas, wearing a Bob Marley sweater.

He glared at a group of brothas shooting dice (craps) in the rear corner of the Shop. "Any of y'all sleep with the sissy?"

It was time for me to go. It was at that moment that I realized I was set up by Dime for entertainment purposes. I'd take the high road and become Casper, the ghost. "You're pissing me off," I said, facing Big Lil Irk.

He threw the hair clippers at me. It shattered the mirror beside me. I didn't flinch. "Listen, faggot..."

Dime stood up and knocked Big Lil Irk out cold with an uppercut to the chin, cracking it with his bejeweled fingers. No one said a thing. "Let's not forget who run this shit. He may be a lot of things, but don't ever call my son a faggot. Even I hate that word."

He has my back. "Dad..."

He refused to look at me. "Let's go. I didn't even get my hair cut fucking with you."

"Why did you really want me to come here with you, dad? To humiliate me? You set me up."

"From here on out if you continue to have relations with dudes you are to call me Dime and stay away from me and my associates. Don't acknowledge me as your father."

"So pandering drugs means more to you? You know what Dime? I'll call a cab."

I left him there.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

A few weeks later I received a call from Dime's wife, Stasha. I liked Stasha. She sacrificed her kingpin father for the throne. It had nothing to do with me. Personally, she wasn't half bad for a psycho bitch.

"Your dad wants you to come to his forty-ninth birthday bash next week Friday at the Savahge Mansion. You must come, baby."

I was at the gym doing squats. "I don't know. I can't come around that man. He acts like we're enemies."

"He loves you, he really does, Harry. He's just in his feelings."

I frowned. "If he loves me, why did he kill..."

"Baby, you have to let that go," she interrupted me. "The past is just that. Listen. Just be here for your dad. That's all I ask. He knows not what he does."

"I'm only doing this for you. You sure he wants me there?"

"It's a Player's Ball. Of course, he does."

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Before I knew it dad's birthday came. I was uneasy all day. A bad thunderstorm awakened me. I tried to give myself a million reasons to back out of going to dad's party. I gave Stasha my word that I'd be there. There was no turning back now. The thunderstorm was a warning I chose to ignore.

I loved my dad. He was a beautiful person when he wanted to be, but kingpins were not friendly nor your friends. It was money over everything in his world. Dime was a crazy son of a bitch who forgot that his kettle was as black as mine and his house was made of glass. Believe me, I respected my parents. They did what they could to raise me, but that respect had an expiration date. It expired a long time ago, before I turned thirteen.

Dad was once the pinnacle of good hygiene, but after he lost his police career and inherited his riches, he slowly let himself go. His 49th birthday party split us apart. I had just arrived. I greeted family and friends, clad in black trousers and a Live Happy Free t-shirt. The instant dad laid scornful eyes on me, he walked right up to me and got in my face.

"What is Queen Sissy doing at my party?" he asked with an attitude.

My heart broke in two. I forced myself not to remember the very first time he broke my heart. He took something more valuable than gold from me. I was on meds because of the trauma. I smiled anyway. I was embarrassed. Everyone was looking at us. I kept my head high as the clouds Stasha's head was in for thinking my being here was going to spark a reconnection.

"My name's Harry, dad. And you invited me."

He pushed me a few feet back and pointed at me. I didn't know what to do or how to feel.

"I didn't invite you, Harry! This is a Player's Ball. No sissies allowed. I don't need you begging my moneyed homebois for sex."

"Keep your dam hands to the dope you push through your own community, Dime. Your homebois look suspect. And you did invite me here. Your wife, Stasha, called me last week and told me that you wanted me to come."

Dime shouted, "Stasha!"

Stasha screamed from the kitchen. "Don't yell my damn name like you're stupid, Dime. I'm not one of your hos."

She appeared on the threshold.

"Just the main one. Listen, did you lie to Harry about being invited to my dam party?"

She was fearless. "A party my coins paid for. What money you contributed? All you and your greedy friends did was show up. This isn't the Grammy's."

"I don't want him here."

"But I do," said Stasha. "And he's your son. Y'all need to nip this animosity shit in the bud and move on."

"Son?" He looked me up and down with disgust. "Harrisha has that slim slow, that..."

"You need to stop telling my business, Dime. For real," I said. I was uneasy.

"Because of your preference and your affliction, I have lost two of my distributors on the West Coast. That's a huge loss."

"Dad, this is not fair."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "What's not fair is that I will never have grandchildren. What's not fair is that you let men dig your ass out and one of them gave you HIV. What's not fair is that I was given you as a son."

Deeply enraged, I punched Daddy in the jaw. I hated myself for it, but enough is enough.

"I didn't get HIV by being promiscuous, contrary to popular belief."

"That's not what I heard," Dime said, narrowing his cold eyes. My punch didn't faze him.

"Maybe if you would have asked me or been there for me, you'd know the truth."

"I'm looking at your truth. You get that gay shit from your mama's side."

I looked at everybody. "This party is over. I need to talk to my sperm donor. One on one."

He roughly grabbed me by my shirt, and I kneed him in his groin. He doubled over. I took Dime's gun from his waistline and shot four rounds in the ceiling.

"Get out! Now!"

People ran out of the house, leaving the front door open behind me. I was empty inside. Bad enough I had to live with the virus, yet he offered no emotional support. I aimed the loaded gun at Dime.

I sucked in air. "I acquired HIV from a three-year relationship with Roger. A man you introduced me to, Dime.  I was in love with him. He liked to pull rubbers off in the dark without my knowledge or consent."

Dime laughed in my face. "You're lying."

"You know what, Dad. Fuck you. I'm not going to degrade myself because you choose to be ignorant. As of today, we have nothing to say to each other."

Dime grinned. "Fine by me. You embarrassed me. Got all my friends talking. I hate being your father. I will never be gay. I can never let a man fuck me. I'm sorry."

Quietly, I walked out the door, dropping his gun on the porch.

"Stay away, sissy!" Dime shouted.

I refused to look back.

I might turn to salt.

Or I might kill him just like his kingpin wife killed her father to give a deranged nigga the reigns.