Standard of Living
A roof or a car, not both,
thanked all my stars for the cold,
miles through Ponderosa woods each morn
on my way to work.
On trail through thistle hills overgrown,
coarse as steel wool and undisturbed
at least until the crossroad.
A gas station open early enough
past the overpass I’d risk for breakfast.
The homeless man there insisted escort,
put himself between me and traffic
to ramble wild about raping “gooks”
to death in Vietnam.
He was banned from grounds.
Better than the packs
would attempt outright abduction
I suppose.
Our warehouse fully furnished
with only the finest dumpster finds,
we loved a good daybreak dive,
washer, dryer, toasters, microwaves,
mismatched tables, mismatched chairs,
invisible in our grungy work rags,
happy as a pile of rats in a trash palace.
Best job I ever had. Not the trash.
We did whatever was needed.
Things no one else wanted.
A liminal campus within cemetery triad,
more corvids than human folk, well
we did touch frequently on death.
At lunch pondered how each of us
might go. But when it was my turn,
Irish said no, no, no. One day
I’d just walk out into the forest,
just keep on goin’. Until the rest
of my hair turned white. They’d find
me in 1000 years’ time just the same,
deep in some evergreen cave,
too scared to meet my gaze,
and ask me how it happened,
the End of Days.
Northern Lights
We’ve established
my mind is a tricky bitch.
Things be happenin’ montage sequence,
clair-audience, voyance, echo location, you name it,
primarily contained with dreams.
When I bought my land,
chose four acres unrestricted,
won’t be answerin’
to anyone but myself.
I don’t dream of ease.
Bears, moose, wolves, several
more species, a whole biome of trees,
a bit of bog to the east.
Cloud swept volcanic peaks.
Cool ocean breeze.
Electricity at the street.
How did I get it so cheap?
A junkyard neighbors me.
I stay on theme.
Not the usual wild streak, I dream
my labor belongs to me, I make
everything I need. Land is life.
We never did see eye to eye.
Underestimated how many hits I’d take
to be free.
I don’t dream of ease.
Cards dealt, cards played.
Not the kind can settle
when it comes to my mate after all.
Too late anyway. So got my grid paper
and drew a house. Made those walls
and frames extra tall. To accommodate
who can say. I just like them that way.
I’m no master of architecture, but even so,
I woke late that night and shit you not,
lumber cuts and measurements came pouring out,
some hollow whisper inside throwing hard math down
until it was done. My mind’s tricky
but she don’t fuck up. Ice cold. Rock solid.
Call it the Doc Holliday. Don’t need to see straight
when you hit everything. No TB please. Jokes
aside, it woulda been nice, the right
kinda hand in mine, a place, a DarkSky
where my lover bursts so much milky starspray,
hungry as the black loam where we lay,
in another life.
Ugly Swan
As a general rule
I most graciously accept compliments
from little girls. Usually a shy twirl
and, “I like your skirt.”
One gasped at the airport,
punched her dad, thrust her finger
at my pants. Another
came running for my autograph
at a truck stop with my dad
and her dad said sorry,
we just left Disneyland,
she thinks you’re a princess.
Could not convince her otherwise.
I’m the most famous nobody
you’ll ever meet. Overnight
on a Greyhound and someone still
remembers me. Walking.
God forbid a girl do anything
unseen. I don’t aim to be pretty.
No make up, no flesh out, chin up,
when I speak loud it’s man down,
not the fun naked, he’s dressed down.
Gut, sword. Death rattle. Skull
floor, cracks like a watermelon.
When abuse rocked dad’s church flock,
shook his head,
said mouthing off at a woman
is taking your life into your hands,
said I’d slit his throat
ever came to that.
A princess
protects her constituents.
De-escalation
It’s been observed with emphasis,
I eat with both hands. Approval
of a Denny’s waitress when I bodied
a Lumberjack Slam. Me and the girls
go full Maenad for a meal or a dance,
he’s either stupid or a gamblin’ man,
sniffin’ ’round hikin’ a leg like that,
thinks he’s got fuck all add to that.
Rolled out, left the kids and husbands at home,
the cool single aunt and two Texas moms,
discussed the family over darts at a pub.
Innocent enough.
But come 0200 hours
between Fastrip and Carls Jr is where
lowlifes go to die. Human sewer. This guy
saw young women and wanted to try.
Us women ain’t never known DEFCON 5,
shot 3 to 2 that night.
Sneakin’ ’round the back our minivan,
fuckin’ ferrety where he packed,
’bout to get capped twice.
Right between the eyes.
That solo graveyard cook
opened the drive-thru window
right on time.
Hadn’t seen brainless scurry off the other side.
Bag in hand, dead inside,
ready to meet God or Valhalla
in the golden glow of a smiley star sign.
My girl flipped straight sunshine.
Sweet tea sundress fine.
I chimed in with customer service byeee.
Wondered if he thought maybe
we were mad about no biscuits and gravy.
Arizona Asphalt
Out here we were tumbleweed hog feral,
city brats a breed apart from us rural,
bare feet on 150 degree gravel
just to see who’d puss out first.
Our playground game was Scorpion,
dug nails into each other’s skin
just to test each other’s grip.
Pain tolerance.
Hottest peppers, meanest sours,
blackest bitters. Your first beer
was either Modelo, Heineken, or Guinness—
take a guess. We took care of business. Fight
Day right before summer break
in McDonald’s parking lot.
Got a problem? Punch it out
or let it go. Don’t
take a face shot or lose a chain though.
In school with my peers blindfolded
I was taught to issue marching orders,
they called that a game too.
Said it was about skill, trust, discipline.
I preferred it
when we snuck off campus
just to picnic under stubborn
desert trees and brush, taily grasses bristling,
broken foundation just enough green
to pretend someplace far away.
Memento Mori
Sexy on a man is softness, sincerity, effort.
Childlike wonder.
Do you know the difference
between submission and surrender,
a soldier and a warrior?
Love.
I like expensive gifts my sweet,
that is respect, affection, and loyalty.
You have to give what you receive.
Not a man among you could ever
manage to meet me. Ask a mirror
why I had to leave.
You couldn’t even recognize my altar,
couldn’t stand bare
before my wedding best.
.
Dress dewdrops on orb-weaver webs at dawn.
.
Hair busied purple-throated hummingbirds at nest.
.
Aisle off-roading at speed in a Datsun through rain shadow desert chasing rolling thunderstorms overhead.
.
Threshold full moon total eclipse breathless brilliant stars above red canyon carved somewhere near the start.
.
Bed everywhere seeds pop tendrils towards the sun, dripping musky rush of the rut, or glittering blush snow blanket dormant.
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Choose the right soundtrack.
@~^~
Notes: Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech is the best novel ever read aloud to me in school. The saying lingered.
wyrdwind 