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Open Poetry #32
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turning down the amorphous prestige of Franklin (Bud) Maxwell
| Open Poetry #32 |
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turning down the amorphous prestige of Franklin (Bud) Maxwell |
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Local Rebel Member Ascendant
since 1999-12-21
Posts 5767Southern Abstentia 
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dismal white hair projected from the crest of his cranium to the nape of his neck across his pale pate reflected the off-frequency flicker of fluorescent tube lights in his mouth a Marlboro dangled conspicuously spewing out smoldering smoke which he did not puff it just danced up into his face making him wince as it struck eyes behind squarish looking wire framed spectacles face pocked and aged frame fat and frumpish he hunched over in the stool in front of the Cadillac engine lathe towards the work piece spinning at three hundred and sixty rpms in the chuck carbide tool bit tearing into the steel tossing chips curling up and breaking off like ferrous pasta in mid-air cooling oil mixed with water rushed out of the pump nozzle milky white spilling onto the bit making steam that mixed in with the pungent Marlboro smoke this was him day after day same stool same lathe same cigarette same baggy, dirty, clothes he had escaped from the throes of corporate woes Boeing in the sixties and seventies big business big labor big pay big deals big titles younger men would laugh when he'd start to tell a story especially if it had been told and not believed before sometimes it seemed he had lived the life of a thousand men but behind his pale grey eyes was a clever brain he knew the raw onion he consumed daily at lunch made him less than a desirable companion during or after I would seek his advice and sometimes use it most of the time it was good but younger men wouldn't listen to him his wife had left him years ago taking his daughter and son both adopted later his daughter killed in an accident that left his son slightly askew as well after which his X sent the boy back too hard to handle couldn't keep anything the boy would steal it or break it or sell it to buy a bag of pot there in front of a drab green engine lathe every day with a Marlboro was the rest of his life but sometimes we'd just talk about philosophy or the Beatles |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
makes me feel a little better about my life |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
sometimes it seemed he had lived the life of a thousand men but behind his pale grey eyes was a clever brain he knew the raw onion he consumed daily at lunch made him less than a desirable companion during or after I would seek his advice and sometimes use it most of the time it was good but younger men wouldn't listen to him ~*~ You give somber a whole new tone. |
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Susan Caldwell Member Rara Avis
since 2002-12-27
Posts 8348Florida |
Karilea hit it with the word "somber" You made me want to sit, have a smoke and talk to him...  Very well done. You tell a story extremely well."cast me gently into the morning, for the night has been unkind" |
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jellybeans Member Elite
since 2000-10-13
Posts 2298 |
you can paint people pictures better than anyone I know......excellent work... |
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LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296 |
sometimes it seemed he had lived the life of a thousand men but behind his pale grey eyes was a clever brain from the canvas sparks such dazzling stories...life stories...the richest kinds of people I've missed you and your incisive poetry...thank you for sharing |
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