Quote:

“A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.”--Martin Luther King

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Four More



















Photo by RP Thomas


Gone

Big Mike, late of Talent, disappeared one day.
A mechanic by trade, a “gentle bear,” he was
Last seen at the edge of town by Lizzie DeLay,
Who said Mike looked somewhat out of place.
Lizzie lived out that way and knew his face,
Had once told the mechanic to go get "fugged."

He blocked out the sun when he walked past,
Lizzie embellished in her indomitable way.
Mike was headed, as far as she could tell, fast
For the mountains and the “vast, blue horizon.”
She said, if you wanted her opinion, 
He had gone away to stay—Lizzie shrugged.

  
Big Mike

Big Mike loved Rolo,
Lizzie DeLay and the

Smell of gasoline—in no
particular order.

He ran the wrecking yard
just off Pacific Highway

Outside of Talent,
though he wasn’t the boss.

He was too mean
for that beneath his

Quiet, “gentle” demeanor,
as Lizzie and a few

Others knew quite well.
He’s “bent,” Lizzie once said.

But then Lizzie, Tex’s bartender,
wasn’t known as a saint, either,

Dead-right as she often
was.  Thence

Something happened
as it usually will,

When love and gasoline
are mixed like cheap swill.


Junkyard Dog

Big Mike’s dog Rolo was
no friend of Lizzie DeLay,
and that was okay with Mike.

A good old Boxer who
barked and barked again
at the smallest slight,

Rolo was proof certain
that a man’s best
friend is a good old dog.

So when Rolo bit Lizzie
early in the game,
the day after that first night

In Tex’s Tavern, the whole
town heard about it and
played along.  A literary

Wag quoted Bukowski:
“Love is a dog from hell.”
Though somewhat easy it was

Good enough for a few rounds
in Tex’s Tavern, Talent’s
accidental breeding ground.

The wag stayed
drunk for a week, which was
not uncommon nor profound.


Tex’s Tavern

Had Lizzie DeLay been working
the night the wag took the stage
and made fun of her, she’d have
smacked him on his kisser.

But Tex was working his bar,
“to watch the front door,” and to
guarantee at least three “profit
nights;” Lizzie worked the other four.

Tex, a big-city boy, had always
said he wanted a place out West
in a crossroads town busy enough
to make a buck, but unknown
to strangers down on their luck.

Passing through Talent in an old
Harvester bus, Tex spotted the bar on
Main Street and cried out, “The hunt
is done!”  “Hon?” Lizzie fussed, for
she was unhappy and given to doubt.

In the bar’s dim light, Lizzie saw Big
Mike when he came to inquire about
the bus, but things started slow. As Tex
parlayed the bus for a Chevrolet, Lizzie
began to sway, and soon enough, glow.

from the Talent poems

TS

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