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Open Poetry #49
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It Was A Hell Of A Thing...
| Open Poetry #49 |
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It Was A Hell Of A Thing... |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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It was desert two-lane blacktop back then all the way to Boulder City. The night sky beckoning South was alive in darkness. Thousands of glowing eyes reflected light, Male Jacks on the prowl looking for Jennies, looking to make their mark. The whole drive I saw less than two dozen cars. I knew I couldn't stop to park along the road to wash clean with sand in a sea of stars. I was running hard and heavy until I was safely into Arizona heading for a plane. Ten miles out of Vegas I started shaking. I'd done a man's work, an unmade man in the making, then celebrated with a working Pro. Broke the weapon into pieces tossed out into night a little here a little there, like scattered holiday bread a piece for luck spilled off the dam. I crossed the state line from Nevada breathing deep chilled desert air. Every night some of us living, every night some of us dead. When I was fifty miles past the lights of Kingman, as desert night again swallowed up the world, "Ave Maria" done a capella by a strong young woman's voice blew out starkly on the radio. A Pro's cash laughter still sparkly on my brain her scent still too strong on my skin. "Ave Maria" The night's work still blowing darkly through my soul. "Gratia plena Maria" Cordite smoke acrid on my clothes. Should have lost the clothes but even in Nevada driving naked was a bad idea back then. Next time remember lose the clothes; sweet Jesus can there be a next time? "Et benedictus fructus ventris Ventris tuae, Jesus" No moon in a desert's clear Winter sky so pocked with stars there were shadows underneath Joshua trees. In a borrowed car that seemed to fly I drove the old highway like it was sanctuary almost abandoned down the west side of the state. Less traffic, no point in tempting fate. "Ave Maria" It was a four hour turn around job no time for the town, made time for the Green Door. Hadn't I earned it? Eight hours to Phoenix. Who's keeping score? "Ave Maria Mater Dei" I laughed being too young to gamble too young to drink, not too young for the chore, not too young to know what the Pro was for. "Ora pro nobis peccatoribus" No speed limits back then once a town line was crossed. No forgiveness back then when a wrong line was crossed. "Ora pro nobis" The mark saw me coming; I left him right on the lawn. Four hours later and both of us gone, I'm threading through potholes and tumbleweeds torn from the earth, my left eye waiting for slate gray streaks that bleed from first pink shades of dawn. "Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus" Once in a while some ramshackle buildings some tumbled down bars poured past the car's windows in flashes of shadows and lights and glow from the stars. "Nunc et in hora mortis" Dead gas stations so old I didn't know the brands. "Et in hora mortis nostrae" It was the old stage road to Wickenburg then down to the Valley of the Sun where a hundred years of anglo dreams lay scattered crumbling on ancient desert floor. "Et in hora mortis nostrae" Midnight Juarez radio blasting Christmas carols up from the border all the way to Canada. 1,000,000 watts of guerrilla blues, rock and roll and a capella tinsel blowing cowboy preachers off the air, crushing U.S. stations from el Paso to Calgary. Before cell phones, email, internet, cable TV, they were selling plastic Jesus, beer and cigarettes and soap without a soul. "Nunc et in hora mortis" Seventeen years old a blooded contract killer with a fresh gym bagged bankroll... "Et in hora mortis nostrae" Souvenirs for dreams left to years that followed. Some burned out tweaker DJ, sipping Tequilla and Robitussin on Alvarado Street tripping on White Dove and holiday nostalgia, set up these memories of that pure sweet voice carving through a desert night singing. "Ave Maria" Redemption and a year's worth of living if I just could make it home. "Ave, ave dominus" More than 50 years now gone, glittered memories still shining on, but the work itself was easy. It was getting out alive that took my breath away. "Ave Maria Gratia plena...." ©2003, 2016 by icebox (with apologies to Franz Schubert) |
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| © Copyright 2016 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Ari Squire Member Posts 488 In The Phallus Lane |
Never write with a blued pen. Loving Linny Jean is poetry. |
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
And you lived to tell the story and more to follow. you haven't lost your touch. Just dropped in to see who was around Glad you are still writing.JO/ latearrival |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows |
Thank you both for your time and your comments. |
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