Cash was at the bottom of the barrel
Wading through a misty mess
Growling at the moon.
Sunk my teeth into what became
Two giant hands, leathery skin,
Forcing me to hold onto
A metal bar that froze my grip
That I had only just begun
To listen to, inside voice
As bubbles floated
In infinite grace.
Tag: bubbles
Polo Shirts (day 1448)
Rhythm is a magic thing.
Ebb.
Flow.
It takes the heart
And encircles it with
Falling Autumn leaves
And afternoon window shoppers
Dressed in
Late-morning-sunshine-yellow polo shirts
And walked-a-mile shoes.
Rhythm is two steps
For every one breath
On a muggy evening
Along a windy, ocean view
Pedestrians only path
In a healthy city.
Rhythm is necessary,
Just as long steady gusts for big bubbles
And late afternoon naps are.
Because if the heart takes a leap
And forgets which beat
Is flip flopping around deep inside,
Then all mastery of any subject
Is floating lifelessly away
Amidst breadcrumbs scattered for ducks
In a sea of slugs on a hungry Tuesday.
’57 Appaloosa (day 1227)
Can you control my yelling as I short my conscience to your wedding?
-Laughing with the children blowing bubbles down by the pond-
I didn’t expect to see your friend Lucifer standing there
As I convinced you to drag the fresh linens through tumbleweeds of mystery
-It is the style, I explained bitterly through my clenched teeth-
Amazed to know you fret over the cake with your eyes opened so wide
Calming the sunshine with sips of refreshments from white dixie cups
-I chewed all around the top rim of mine, unable to resist the feeling-
Your sawdust left a trail for the onlookers to follow as you trailed off into obscurity
“Madness” they muttered under their breath directing their eyes to your mother
Her hands were boiling with innocence; a fools bargain at the end of the road
-My loaded shotgun wasn’t a toy gimmick to be taken lightly, though I held it so-
Even the village authorities didn’t know what to make of it all
Trained as they were in 39 different methods to disengage a situation
A calming hustle settled over the observers
-I came prepared with my gradient tinted aviators and beer cozy-
The ’57 should-be-retired Cadillac rolled on over the loose gravel
Unnerving the guests as her tumbleweed dress sat down amongst the tears and stains
Rat piss and shit and splintered deluxe leather upholstery
Sporting a vintage look you can only get from years of missing affection
-I couldn’t help but remark on the timing of it all-
Doorless I was on my sturdy ’94 Bronco, I still had a radio good for the local DJ
But oh was I jealous of the missing hubcap on that old Cadillac
Rattling free as they sped through the streets, top always down.. it was a ’57 after all
We all knew they were notorious for having glitchy automatic tops
Plus, the rust on that thing was shining so bright in that heathen sun
-I turned to the wild thing next to me, nearly popping out of her mid-twenties figure dress-
“Say Cindy-Lou, I’ve gotta cooler full-a-beer, two lawn chairs an’a good-ol-radio
Wanna grab my shotgun an’head on up to the ol’ mine and shoot the breeze?”
-I could see it in her eyes it wasn’t the beer she was after-
Her nose rings and solid gold spacers told me she liked firing shotguns
Wild women always had a soft spot in my heart
Their unnerving contradictions always dropped my caution to the wind
But I rolled out of there with my spirits singing about Friday nights
2 good speakers in the ol’ Bronco: front right and rear left
-I wasn’t spitting sin, I was just riding on the gin waves of the 1230 nuptialities-
So we left those 76 long jaw’d and sweating visitors at those old rodeo grounds
The automatic shifter kicked a bit as it shifted into third
But the dust wasn’t settled from the ’57 Appaloosa
Rattling down the never happier road to short lived elation
We turned right when they turned left
We headed higher as they got down; after all it was honeymoon season
In the land of Friday nights and worn out shotguns
The Last of My Soul (day 1032)
For the last of my soul
Lingered between barnacles,
To which, much to my dismay,
Spread blood amongst salty bubbles
Relocating my healthy initiative
– Re-digesting my acquired taste –
Into little bits of fish-bait.
My conscience flittered
Into spraying mist
Diving deep to discover
The last of my soul
Peaceful (day 577)
We all pay attention
Look into the glass
And watch the bubbles form
We all sit in a crowded bar alone
Staring into the absence of mind
And wonder about our journey
We all smile at the little children playing
It’s an uncontrollable thing
The same as laughter modifies our face
We all meld into the future
Unconscious of our friends we lose
Happy about the footsteps we’ve led away
We all have to cry
It’s inevitable in our destruction
It’s peaceful, after the storm
Little Bubbles (day 386)
Silent lights blink calmly at me
Through these eyes of rain
Drizzling away the dust stains
With deep and dark circles of water
Soaking inwards to the core
With little bubbles of vitalization
Gaining new experiences they boost
The little tiny hairs that reside
On the back of my neck
Waiting just for moments like these
To tell me how I feel
The Good Things (day 175)
The heart of gold
The bubbles in a champagne flute
The dots on the i’s
The fragrance in the flower
The sun behind the clouds
The laughter from a child
The rainbow in the rain
The pride in a win
The clean sheets after laundry day
The A+ on the report card
The warm soup on a cold day
The tears in Casablanca
The full roll of toilet paper
The sunlight on the sea
The twinkle in the eye
The smell of sea salt on the wind
The clean pair of undies
The dollar down the couch
The full fridge of food
The last piece of chocolate
The window seat
The final keystroke
The cookies in the oven
The secret admirer
The phone call from mom
The belch after a fine meal
The slow song with a dance partner
The look from across the room
The old noir film, with Audrey Hepburn of course
the pressed flower, forgotten in a book
The fall leaves, brilliantly shining
The secretly witnessed kiss
The friend at the front of the line
~ This poem is a collection of the conversation my dear friend @thelongsilence of twitter and I had, discussing the illustrious @tjpou, who you can gather each of our feelings towards in this dialogue. For the record, I started it with “The heart of gold”, and we alternated from there.