It was to be a blast of bike--
and yes, harleys stood the ground
I smelled the pine before we stopped...
He parked the car too obvious
amidst the chrome and painted tank.
Our hostest? NO. She weren't the mostest--
we called her "Little Bit"...
she wore bandana for a top
with just a tiny little knot
and just a sneeze of tits inside--
she wore her cut-offs loose.
We had reached the end of road.
There we parked the firebird.
Absurdity was in the air
and freedom had
the smell of pine.
Another place, another time--
this was funerals ago.
As we pulled in gravel drive
there was caution in their eyes
until they recognized
encased in fiberglass.
(And we thought firebirds were cool...)
We brought a trunkload full of beer--
our welcome almost guaranteed.
We drove wet through dry county--
in cautious rearview of the past--
well-stocked for the future.
The land was pine in praise of Oak--
I spied a beauty shading grave.
Above, dangled a blatant noose--
a tugboat rope
too close to care
who might be buried underneath.
I thought that quite irreverant.
To hang a swing over a grave?
I watched them sway with beer in hand--
in a karmic dance
of total disrespect.
But even in an autumn breeze
with bits of pine adrift in air
"just let it be"
We donned our togas just for Rome.
This was a perfect gingerhouse
with all the little filagree
She even had a screen door squeak
and checker pattern
tiles in floor.
We settled in, with Peavey amp
and paper nourishment
We had a barrel barbecue
and lots of sauce--
none of us were hungry though--
we just wanted flicker fire.
* * *
I gave massages free that night--
my hands grew tentacles in flame
of shadow's simple circumstance
I drank to dull
that nagging bitch of
why I came.
We built a fire to the gods
of total carelessness.
We shamed the stars
with pine cone spark
and fought the nodding
of our test--
too drunk to wonder why.
* * *
We sang "circle blues" that night
and some slept around the fire
Gazing into blue lick flame
we told stories
sang till dawn
and Kenny played the slide again
with an empty hot long neck.
* * *
I awoke upon the couch
an emery board for tongue.
I could have filed my nails
of my head--no one around.
I couldn't miss her--
she was there
I didn't notice child before
but there before my throbbing eyes
was the child of our hostess.
She wore a tattered pink tu-tu--
then I remembered how she danced.
She looked at me with third world eyes
an orphan, searching charity.
I sat upon the edge of couch
disgusted with the shape of me
I looked at her without remorse
and told her:
"Gawd, you need a bath."
(and that was her reply)
I sighed and said, "I think you're right."
I looked around the house again
and wondered if I had caught lice.
The doberman had given birth
and they were frisky--everywhere
they ate the barbecue we burnt
paws upon the kitchen table...
as everyone asleep--still slept.
* * *
I showered after Scott stank up
the bathroom--as he always did.
He tried to grab the towel from me,
succeeding in reveal of breast
laughing in lascivious--
just like he always did.
"I'm hungry." said the plaintive child.
I looked at her. "Yeah, so am I.
But I took a bath at least...
Do that? clean these nails beneath?"
I held her hand intent in gaze--
film of dirt made her hand green.
* * *
She took the bath as I went nuts.
I threw out all the food dogs licked.
Garbage bags of dark green fill
and in the box? Was every bit
of all I'd promised...
and could not fulfill.
There was nothing in that box---
a dozen eggs and something brown.
Just some slices of white bread
and mayonnaise would have to do.
I made that child some eggsalad--
she'd never tasted it before...
I wiped that table sparkling
and laid it out for her
sandwiches cut into squares
and paper towels folded so...
"What's yer name?"
I finally asked
and watched her spit eggs in reply.
"I didn't hear a word you said--
swallow food before you die
on a stupid choke of egg."
Then she told me everything
and damned near broke my heart...
* * *
on quite a whim
I went with one fine gentleman
to a place where ladies dance
chewing dollars in their teeth
my heart broke properly.
There was a beauty
in gyration's lap--
I could see she hated me--
until I looked into her eyes
and saw a memory
until she shook it off.
Then, she simply danced away.
* * *
"Lissa" never had a chance.
is our shared repast--
the footsteps of a walk-away...
[This message has been edited by serenity blaze (10-13-2002 06:47 AM).]