He flops at rest stops
hid by other sleeping truckers.
He likes the loneliness
as the cab windows gradually mist over
with smokey stars.
Rolling on,
cities of light flare upwards
and beneath them
are the unseen, the dead eyed
that hide under a metro-glare.
Amarillo, Detroit, Tacoma, Richmond,
places packed and stacked
with broken dreams and loose ends.
Just driving; hauling and honking.
No one looking.
Launderettes and liquor stores,
five finger fandangos in the back,
chicken wings and Jack D.
Atlantic City, Apalachicola,
soaking in the slipstream
while America looks somewhere else.
What are you watching America?
Sometimes he thinks
only the coyotes are paying attention.
Roads thread through his fingers.
The Great Lakes shimmer,
Rockies rear-up and ripple,
all those dust painted
played-out rural towns,
the roads are his tunnel
through both beauty and depredation.
Old men on roadside benches
stare unphased by his air horn blare'
as if he himself were an 18-wheeled
rolling exhibit of America itself,
yet no one looks long enough
to care.
You picked a fine time to leave me, Luis Gil,
with play-offs in progress, it’s quite a big deal.
I’m not keen on Slater -
a Bellinger-hater –
I need you on first base, to steal.
In ol’ Amarillo,
across from ‘My Pillow’,
in a Starbucks I put in my buds.
When Jake Tapper said it,
I checked it on Reddit:
needing comfort, I went for some suds.
But beer don’t cure hurtin’
- I’ve learned that for certain –
I ain’t found no substance that does.
And heading for glory
- they’ve got Trevor Story -
those Red Sox are laughin’ at us!
LIVING IN TEXAS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Texas, where cowboys roam free,
we’re born with big hearts, you see.
With BBQ extraordinair
and boots beyond compare,
We’re proud of our roots, yippee-ki-yay, whee!
With chili quite spicy and bold,
and tales of the wild west retold,
I’ll spin you a yarn,
'Neath the Texas dawn,
For this native blood never grows cold!
From Amarillo to San Antone,
I shout, “Yeehaw!” in a twang all my own.
with chili so hot,
and a big ol’ pot,
of sweet tea that chills to the bone.
The Texas armadillos all cheer,
for the BBQ smoke draws them near.
With ribs piled knee high,
they simply cannot deny,
Life in Texas is the best—let’s be clear!
AN ECHO OF YOU
Your whisper is somewhere in my mind
It’s as if you were still here, close to me
Your subtle scent lingers on this pillow
It takes me back to us both in Amarillo
But since you’ve gone, it just cannot be
Yet it’s a memory that I’ll seek and find
An image I see, offering a familiar view
Someone who I’ve loved, and now lost
I still feel a touch of your skin on mine
The taste of your lips is like sweet wine
And I could never let it go, at any cost
As for me, it is after all, an echo of you
There once was a man from Amarillo
Whose wife looked like an armadillo
The tooth fairy came
And left in shame
Empty, like his mouth on the pillow.
Armadillo,
peccadillo,
armored, slow, but
sneaky fellow
when confronted,
rather yellow
some say, very
cute!
Armadillo
peccadillo,
leprosy and
such diseases
not aggressive,
somewhat mellow
he's a nasty
brute!
Armadillo,
peccadillo,
please stay in the
open fields, not
tearing up my
daffodils and
nibbling to the
root!
Armadillo,
peccadillo,
please return to
Amarillo,
and even though
you travel slow,
now skedaddle,
scoot!
A Texan with no love relation
is filled with Valentine’s Day elation
When his head hits the pillow
he leaves Amarillo
with his gal on a dream vacation
2/14/22
It was dusty, dry and endless
Stretched beneath an empty sky
From horizon to horizon
Where the turkey buzzards fly,
Like a landscape meant to warn you
Just how far a man can fall.
Except for Ruby in El Paso,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Took a powder in Fort Stockton.
Crossed the Pecos makin’ time.
San Antone gave way to Austin
On the Travis County line.
Shot a rattlesnake in Waco
With my back against the wall.
Except for Bobbi-Jo in Beaumont,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
I’ve seen Lubbock and Laredo,
Seen Odessa/Midland, too.
Met a sweet young thing in Brownsville,
Just another déjà vu.
Didn’t tell her I was leaving,
But I promised her I’d call.
Except for Emmylou in Houston,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Learned to do the Stockdale two-step
In the local Lone Star style.
Danced a Galveston fandango
With a Corpus Christi smile.
Set a sucker up in Dallas,
But my partner dropped the ball.
Except for Jill in Amarillo,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Route 66ish No 2
Young Lisa lived near Amarillo,
And would sit in the shade of a willow,
She had stuff from Ann Summers,
That once was her mothers
Which she kept hidden under her pillow!!
Como la hierba, crece tu lado oscuro
y tendremos que esperar al otoño para sentir
que cada pedazo de ti cae seco
y amarillo
crujiente,
hasta conseguir una cara nueva
y, cada mañana, prometer lo innombrable.
Esperar es una prueba difícil
si, en cada espera,
hay una promesa que embriaga al ser y lo llena de todo con nada
y respira.
Respira tiempo.
Tardes, cartas, llamadas, amores, trabajo, otra vida.
Siempre esta tarea.
Perfecto
Es aquel en cual no se enojaba
Aunque de palabras se llenaba, jamás las hablaba
Es aquel que jamás temía
Aunque talves lo sentía, jamás se imponía
Y eso yo admiro
Bello
Es cuando lo de adentro es más grande
Y lo de afuera se convierte en algo abundante
Es cuando toca sin tocar
Donde con solo su mirada se logre comunicar
Y eso yo lo siento
Brillante
Porque sabe que con amor todo sabe mejor
aunque el mundo sea blanco o gris alrededor
Oh rojo y amarillo, caminaba sin importarle el color
Donde todo su ser, su antonimia y su alma tienen valor
Y eso no tiene precio
Perfecto, bello y brillante
Son las 3 francés más importantes
Donde tú ser es más interesante
Porque para mi, eres un diamante
I flop at truck stops
hid by other sleeping truckers.
I like the loneliness.
Amarillo, Detroit, Tacoma, Richmond,
places packed and stacked
with the bad and the good.
I scoot by paying no heed,
to features, just forms,
how bodies once glimpsed
sometimes return inside of me.
Cities of light, death-heads hidden
no one is looking.
I’m not looking either — just driving through,
hauling and honking.
No one looking.
Launderettes and liquor stores;
five finger fandangos in the back,
chicken wings and Jack D.
Atlantic City, Apalachicola,
soaking in the slipstream
while America looks somewhere else.
What are you watching America?
Sometimes I think
only the coyotes are paying attention.
Roads thread through my fingers.
The Great Lakes shimmer,
Rockies rear-up and ripple.
Moving along not looking,
just driving.
Old men on benches stare
as I hammer on by, and blare,
as if I were an 18-wheeled rolling exhibit
of America itself.
Had an old Cadillac and a gal named Ann
And I played fiddle in a travelin' band
I loved my Ann and a dog named Yeller
They ran off with a yodelin' feller
I woke up this mornin' on a choo choo train
Bound for Amarillo in the pourin' rain
Starin' out the window started me thinkin'
It's gonna be this way 'til I quit drinkin'
3-22-19
Contest:Wk 4, March 2019, Max 8 Lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I woke up this mornin' on a choo choo train
Bound for Amarillo in the pourin' rain
Starin' out the window started me thinkin'
It's gonna be this way 'til I quit drinkin'
Had an old Cadillac and a gal named Ann
And I played fiddle in a travelin' band
We had some good times and a dog named Yeller
Then Ann ran off with a yodelin' feller
My heart was broke and tears fell on my fiddle
I found that Jack Daniels eased me a little
I made a full time job of fillin' my cup
Then Yeller took off with some speckled pup
Don't remember much else with this addled brain
I woke up this mornin' on a choo choo train
12-23-18
Contest: Standard Contest No. 150
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I know a wolf from Amarillo
who loves to sleep on a pillow
when sleepy he howls
wake him and he growls
but he really is quite a fine fellow
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