Shop Forum More Submit  Join Login


You dye
your hair black,
the thick waves on
your crown and the bristles of your beard,
to match the thin worn
threads of your secondhand
suit,

in reverent imitation
of a time
and a place
of a person
you wish you were.

You are becoming
as you leisurely sip your whiskey
lighting Lucky Strikes-
the match flame and
amber juice keeping you warm.

Conversation inciting
like kindling in a funeral pyre,
the spiral of smoke
mingles
over the scent of our breath
as you gruffly tell me,

Ba-by,
you tell me
that you've always
lived alone.
And you sit
in this chair
for forty minutes and
eight on the can before
going back to work
to trade bums cash for
unreadable books,
at the used bookstore
downtown.
And you tell me,

Sweet-heart,
I talk nice-
with my hands.
I have this je ne se quois
with my dark hair and
light eyes and
those hands.

Sweet-heart,
you say,
let me read you
a poem
about America.

You accentuate each syllable
in America with a rap
on the counter with your
chapped and swollen hands.
I raise my glass
in approval and your passions
move you like a runaway train.

You reach into
a worn bag that matches
the color of your carefully coifed
pomp and place a small blue spiral
notebook next to your glass,
now, half empty.
You slip a red rubber band
off like the strap of a dress
so you can read.

America!
you start-
And your face turns red
And your nostrils flare,
the fumes of conviction escaping
your mouth, fueled by whiskey
and cheap cigarettes.

Your anthem is lost
I hear the bubbles floating to the top
of my beer glass as I swig,
swallowing  my afternoon tea and
I know you loved
America.
Her dirty streets and
filthy wealth
guns, and tits, and politicians-
all fake. All big.

You kissed America
frenched her, fucked her
in your rusted Plymouth.
You broke her nose,
she broke your heart and
the whiskey bottle broke
when the towers fell
under the tires of that Plymouth,
as you drove away
from the settling rubble.

The glassy of your eye
turned clear
as I got up and shook
your hand goodbye.
(Love’s a bitch, aye guy?)

And you said,
Ba-by,
you've got the best hands.
so i sat in a bar and this guy says...
:iconlee7x:
lee7x Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2003
lovely :heart:
Reply
:icontravism:
travism Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2003  Professional General Artist
That is a great picture.
Reply
:iconcruelangelpca:
cruelangelpca Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2003
+:O+
Reply
Add a Comment:
 
×

:iconredtrain66: More from redtrain66


More from DeviantArt



Details

Submitted on
October 22, 2003
File Size
2.9 KB
Link
Thumb

Stats

Views
295
Favourites
1 (who?)
Comments
3
×