Tag Archives: Alcohol

DRIVING ON THE TRACKS

DRIVING ON THE TRACKS

I think you are supposed
to take some air out
of the tires

It wasn’t something
that we thought about
gliding across the prairie night
with no one needing to steer
and lots of cold beer
and the throttle
(they had throttles then)
set at forty miles per hour

It is something we would
probably have thought about
going across the old wooden trestle
that and the freights that run at all hours

Except that we were too busy
holding back our friend in the back
almost as strong as the three of us
in his full blown panic

Trying to leap
over the front seat
to grab the quivering wheel
to save himself, and kill us all

NORTH OF THE MEDICINE LINE

NORTH OF THE MEDICINE LINE

Given the theory
with some evidence
that the natives of this land
had about the same tolerance
for alcohol as they had for smallpox
and because someone “knew better”
they were not allowed to buy it

If your husband, although a member
of a supposed superior European race
showed a weakness for the drink
and a strong tendency to spend
the grocery money on the demon rum

You’d just go to the proper authorities
have him knocked down one race
quickly added to the Indian list
and barred from every bar

And there we were
children of the tolerant Swiss
eating nigger toes at Christmas
(we think them Brazil nuts now)
all thinking it all perfectly natural

THE LADY WHO EATS SNOW

THE LADY WHO EATS SNOW

There is a lovely sad lady in Texas
who eats snow in her dreams
writes about young wolves
and the order of the hunt

During the long dark winter
the lady who eats snow
grows larger and nearer to herself

The ice of the river is in her glass
she is two margaritas short of a howl

Soon she will dream
of Alpha wolves
and water

REMINDERS

REMINDERS

Sometimes my body has to remind my mind
yes sometimes my body has to remind my mind

Remember her touch and the times out of mind
and the times out of mind
Remember the tastes and the times out of mind

and all the treasure that we both would find
in those times out of mind
all those times out of mind

And the mind, being mind, says
never mind never mind never mind

I pushed her away but another I’ll find
never mind never mind never mind

I sent her away but another I’ll find
never mind never mind never mind

And the body says
never mind, mind, you never mind
never you never you never mind me
never you never you never mind me

All my great pleasures you’ve again undermined
and you don’t think I mind no you don’t think I mind

And it’s easy for anyone half blind to see
you’re lonely as hell and depressed as can be
pouring chocolate and booze and sugar in me

And we’d be both better off if you’d only mind me
we’d be both better off if you’d only to mind me

SACRIFICE

SACRIFICE

The Kubla Khan’s from minds
broken loose by
and all too soon broken by drugs.

The alcohol that so many have found as
the key to their heaven and their hell.

And all the wounds of daily battles with
truths wrestled to a fall

Makes me wonder if writers
like mothers
and forests
sometimes lay down their bodies
that their children
may grow

MY COUSIN WAYNE

MY COUSIN WAYNE

When Wayne was thirteen
he had the finest blondest hair
the finest features and the finest mind
of all the cousins round

A city boy and cooler about everything than all of us
until we took him hunting

When his first shot hit the rabbit
he ran and cried and held it till it died

At eighteen he quit school with A grades
a month before graduation to get a jump on a job
met a girl and bragged of achievement on first date

Over achievement it turned out to be
quick marriage, quick, two children, three

Army for security, liquor for the pain
it was twenty years before I saw him again

He was in a downstairs bar
sitting there as coarse and thick as adobe brick

I wanted to roll it all back
reach in for the lost fineness and yank it all inside out

And hold him like the rabbit when he cried
still innocent when it died

EXCLUSED

EXCLUSED

Erato can be more than a bit erratic
and daily living lead to static

So sometimes when my lovely muse
seems my tender soul to abuse
and my simple mind confuse
I seek some gentler, kinder muse

And somewhere warm to sing the blues.
(and sometimes a little booze)

Whereupon my main muse, is not amused
and lets me know she feels abused
and certainly, not sufficiently exclused

and it’s choose! choose! choose!
and it’s choose! choose! choose!

As if, having been chosen
a poet could still choose

GRASS FED

GRASS FED

Shakespeare knows what we got do first
but let’s get rid of the feed lots next

Oats was made for breakfast
and corn was made for whiskey
cows was made for eatin grass
and calves for runnin frisky

Surely not for standin around
bursting their livers on a lot of hot feed
that they don’t need, and we don’t need

The beef might be
a little tougher to chew
but our hearts and our jaws
would soon be back to as good as new

And it might
come in real handy
not to be steroid de-sexed
when it comes to what we’ve gotta do next