Two Five Three Six

Letters from my ancestors
Have each spelled out ten names
Two to be used in case of emergency
Five for female spawn
Three for patriarchal ties
And six as shadows of mine own heart.

I love each one as any man can
I’ve researched each story true,
Chosen from my memory
I’ve drawn each one out, too.
I hold my head up high for them;
Each they’ve passed to me their secrets.
In my hands I see their scars
So, too, I see their years.

Through their streets I have sure walked
I’ve also gone for a ride
Sitting in the back seat
Of a stuffed full 1965 Studebaker
Heading out on summer vacation.
I’ve opened the door on Union Street
To taste homemade crabcakes and beans,
I’ve rode the long trail home
Passed Devick Lake out on the range.

So each of the names I keep at the helm
Awaiting imminent deployment,
Like roses saved in a jar
A timeless memorial stored as fondness,
An old lined sheet of blank paper
Found in the desk of y’or.

Pure (day 2714)

Let pure whiskey hold me here all night
Served two years behind cold steel bars
Counted every star upon my old shield
Now I’m two years here with a feeling strong
Wrestling with an old dream gone
With six steel strings and my heart along
Struggling out beyond the the far beyond
That never turned in time to be
What could forever take me free
Twenty seven steel bars
Pure whiskey holding me here all night

Chains (day 2143)

I have launched my Saturn
To lasso my stronghold
About the trunk of an old fir
And in my harness
That I have so carefully filtered
I can see tire marks
Destroying the delicacy
So carefully planted before me.

My disrespecting synonyms
Displace me
Yet from this angle
My six shooter chops each antagonist
Down to their knees
To which I show no mercy
I have no mercy
For the main target
Of the world I’ve come to
Heavily breathe in
Lies stickered to the souls
Of garbage bins discarded.

So, I carefully sign my name
To hand written documents
That address my stronghold’s weakness
And dig my stick
Into footpaths abandoned,
And rip the flagging
From mouth of hungry chains
Replacing raindrops
With Spring snowdrops.

Spare Quarters (day 1917)

She was nothing but a distant beggar
Dancing wildly on thin ice,
Rickety chainsaw boots scraping sidewalks
Of spare quarters lodged between pebbles
And ‘Hey Mister.’
But who was watching?
Who counted every slow swagger
That climaxed with her sweet promises
And loud exclamations,
That brought wide eyes school boys
Glaring wildly out big window doors.
Who paid attention to her exploits,
Lude and brazen as she was
With a fanny pack packed with fanny.
She held meaning in some cheapskates heart,
Some rumbling bumbler
Who intoxicated himself with used needles
And flattened cigarette butts.
He was two strings for his six string guitar
And knew better then the wide eyed schoolboys.

Setting Sun (day 1730)

I am sorry for the overdraft on expenses
For the withdrawal of complete funds
And exercising my options.

But I’m not.

I’m lying and it’s not a puddle of sadness.
I’m drowning and it’s not because of the waterline,
It’s a challenge and that’s just alright.

Cause Momma’s pullin in six figures
And Daddy’s got a gun
And I ain’t coming back from paradise
‘Til long after setting sun.

Smoking Gun Saloon (day 1098)

I was gambling at the Big Gun Saloon.
A lone mescalito biting the fat end,
Lookin’ for a chance.
I gambled often, too often.
A riverboat of floating luck
With legalized six shooters
Yelling my splashing soul goodbye.
I danced with happy Jacks
In a smoking gun saloon.
Ladies with rumpled tushes
Blowin’ kisses on good nights.
Everywhere: adultery in bedackled gems,
Fishnet in blackened stockings,
And a room awaiting cowboy’s boots.
I loved her like a riverman,
Steady and full of piss
Navigating curls running this stream long.
And then she whispered:
“If you ain’t out by noon,
I’ll be throwin’ in yer boots,
Or if you fancy another ride
I’ll be you’re shining star all night.
But either way, it’s been two days
And I ain’t seen you high stack all ride.
So if it’s all the same to you, Sir,
I’ll have mine paid: fair share.
So I can find myself a meal,
I’m hungry and loveless,
Waiting on this ordeal.
Now I trust you, and don’t be puttin on,
This was the deal we made, my trust.
Now do me kind and have it out,
And I’ll be on my way.”
Those were the words I heard sung again
As my splashing soul went out,
And the legalese was spitting up
Lead tipped water kisses into my eyes.

Left Shoes (day 1091)

She’s backstage
And I’ve been driving,
Reckless I know by name.
Shaking as high school.
And I’m a virgin.
Wet dick and anticipating
Romance full of pretending,
Two eyes on a 4:45 am highway.
Nerves and highway straits.
Tight and
Six low balls
Running circles ’round my
Jitter-bug baloos.
Scutter-bug blues.
Ain’t singing sister shows
Nothing wrong with going solo.
Motown and their twisting tu-tus.
And I’m in a stinky ward,
And the girls round here like digging.
And I got a girl who’s a dig.