I met her at a biker bar
(C) 2025 by Russ Dodson
I met her at a biker bar
somewhere in midtown Monterrey.
She said she was a topless dancer,
working fifteen shifts a day.
She handed me a well-worn token,
said her name was Daisy Mae,
said if I learned to play the game right
I would never have to pay.
I placed the token on the table,
waited for the song to play.
When it started, she stood up;
I watched her body start to sway.
She headed for a dressing room,
looked back and said, "Don't go away."
She returned wearing a costume
meant to lead a man astray.
In pasties and a beaded g-string,
everything was on display.
Her eyes said, "This is all for you, love."
There was nothing more to say.
I can talk to my brother 10,000 miles away
Make conference calls from Beijing to Monterrey
Warm up my car from the comfort of home
Attend a ballgame in the rain under a dome
Manage a company while on perpetual vacation
Buy a new car with no sales negotiation
Design a skyscraper with a few clicks here and there
If a doctor, perform surgery remotely from anywhere
So, why can’t I just eat right and lose weight
I guess it’s ‘cos home-cooked food tastes so great
I got wed in twenty-two.
Took this place with mortgage, new.
Built a fence around my land,
plowed that grass with my own bare hands.
Planted collards, corn and beans.
Prettiest spread you ever seen.
Rain don’t come, it leaves you dry,
Underneath that big old sky.
Got no river, ain’t no rain,
lonely here on the great dry plain.
Nature’s older, bigger’n me.
You can’t cheat her, no sirree.
Twenty acres turned to dust,
my new tractor, gathering rust.
Wind blew down from Cimarron there,
big black dirt all in the air.
Ain’t no beans or collards now,
ain’t no nothing left to plow.
Heading out for Monterrey,
nothing here to make us stay.
Windmill, tractor, homestead, plow:
wind and dust can have ‘em now.
she posted
the window of her soul photo
at first glance
it looked like the
I’m ready for our weekend
in Monterrey photo
but upon closer examination
in that photo you could
look into her eyes
and see her soul
naked and exposed
but a woman whole
wrapped in
Egyptian cotton
that in no way could
a thousand threads
per inch conceal
that weekend
in Monterrey
I’ve been so many places; traveled down some roads --
Mixed with a thousand faces where the Ganges overflowed.
I've crossed majestic mountains; walked some valleys too --
Tossed coins into fountains, but I never saw them -- till you.
I've traveled endless highways; left countless roads behind --
Walked along some byways that still linger on my mind.
I've come back home from St. Tropaz; walked the beach at Malibu.
I lived awhile in Monterrey, but I never saw them -- till you.
(Bridge)
Till you I never saw the sunset on Biscayne.
Till you I never heard a gentle summer rain.
I’ve been so many places I’d like to go back to
But only if you come (to/with) me and make them all come true.
I've stood beneath the tower when Big Ben chimed at noon.
I've whiled away some hours under a great big Texas moon.
I spent some time at Waikiki; roamed the wilds of Timbuktu.
I've sailed on all the seven seas, but I never saw them -- till you.
(Instrumental break)
(Repeat bridge)
I’ve been so many places; traveled down some roads --
Mixed with a thousand faces where the Ganges overflowed.
I've crossed majestic mountains; walked some valleys too --
Tossed coins into fountains, but I never saw them -- till you.
I've traveled endless highways; left countless roads behind --
Walked along some byways that still linger on my mind.
I've come back home from St. Tropaz; walked the beach at Malibu.
I lived awhile in Monterrey, but I never saw them -- till you.
Till you I never saw the sunset on Biscayne.
Till you I never heard a gentle summer rain.
I've stood beneath the tower when Big Ben chimed at noon.
I've whiled away some hours under a great big Texas moon.
I spent some time at Waikiki; roamed the wilds of Timbuktu.
I've sailed on all the seven seas, but I never saw them -- till you.
Writer's Note:
I added 2 lines to the 2 line bridge and set it to music.. It's Posted later under Till You (Lyric)
Remembering all the miles
Of road that I've been down --
If I could count the smiles
Would they outnumber frowns?
If all the doors that opened
And bid me to come in,
Could, once again, be open now --
Which one would I go in?
There was a night in Memphis
That warmed me from the snow.
And, later, in Chicago ---
What happened, I don't know.
There was a day in Monterrey --
Before the sunset came --
Two arms that held me tenderly
I never saw again.
The years all passed so quickly,
And it's hard to say just when --
But I believe a night in Boston
Caused me never to look back again.
So, some nights have been keepers --
And, some I threw away ---
But all the doors that opened
Are in my heart to stay.
I’ve been so many places; traveled down some roads --
Mixed with a thousand faces where the Ganges overflowed.
I've crossed majestic mountains; walked some valleys too --
Tossed coins into fountains, but I never saw them -- till you.
I've traveled endless highways; left countless roads behind --
Walked along some byways that still linger on my mind.
I've come back home from St. Tropaz; walked the beach at Malibu.
I lived awhile in Monterrey, but I never saw them -- till you.
(Bridge)
Till you I never saw the sunset on Biscayne.
Till you I never heard a gentle summer rain.
I’ve been so many places I’d like to go back to
But only if you come (to/with) me and make them all come true.
I've stood beneath the tower when Big Ben chimed at noon.
I've whiled away some hours under a great big Texas moon.
I spent some time at Waikiki; roamed the wilds of Timbuktu.
I've sailed on all the seven seas, but I never saw them -- till you.
(Instrumental break)
(Repeat bridge)
Don Churches
brushes his words
like acrylic on finger tips
to my lips
and eyes my corner
where I am not content to sit
when the smell of Mexico
lingered from his hands
that day, not long ago
When the Jupiter rain
crashed like glass
on his homebound truck,
pitch as the void
of being here and rid
of Monterrey
Don Suave
you remind me of my heart
even as I watch
my life loose heat
and like cold coffee
be discarded and drained
disappearing like the summer
I'm an ember to your whim
ready to live or hiss
under your palm and mouth,
a wind leading me
on or off
where my story will be written
Tormenta, amor, calmame
I am only a girl
with my hair bound and down
over my display, less kempt than my mind
though I am terrified.
Don't touch me, I'll break
Your sympathy looks like love
Don Face
I'll wonder why you look to me
But I know too well
to pass you on
If I can't be eased to be
the destination of your feet
But even in this
me llamas, you call
and
You carry all
of Mexico, my heart
a honey suckle season
Si quieres
walk with me miles
and let me know
your smile
in the absence of fear
here
where my soul stands ready
These are just words:
Teacher and student,
Maestro and estudiante, and in
Life’s great song you are a but a precious
Fifteen notes in the
Monterrey of Mexico and I, some
Fifty sonatas in the waiting room of ever afters, where
Chords get harder to play in
English,
Espanol or even
Swahili, for that matter.
So this much I know: the
Great Conductor cannot miss the
Forever smile and wondrous lilt
Leaping
Endless, boundless, hate less into the
Joy you caress when he hears the
Lullaby of your
Sanguine youth.
Oh Yes! Let someone sing
“Maestro” and another
“Student”, and let too
Mozart waltz to
Shakespeare’s sonnets and
Handel serenade Cervantes, and when glorious
Bach opens heaven’s door to recite Senor Paz’s
“No More Cliches”,
Let’s join hands for the
Grand Concerto.
For I once met a man whose tongue,
Trilling with verse,
Taught me:
“Words are but
Melody in the symphony of the
Soul."
Four or five years past,
The plane lands in Monterrey, Mexico.
Approaching the gate, the humidity hits me,
I wipe my brow – it’s blistering hot,
The salt still stings my vision.
I clutch my luggage near,
Anxious anticipation, my mind clenches,
Stomach knotted, I know it’s been five summers.
Last time I saw her,
She was but a child –
Eager to impress, quick to compare.
Then there she is, waiting with the others.
From afar, I notice she is mature now.
As I grow closer I see her new complexion,
Her once-short hair, long outgrown,
We both say hello.
Still quick to compare, eager to impress,
She flaunts herself like she’s something special.
I look at myself critically; cautiously, carefully I compare.
She and I are from different worlds,
Different positions.
Last time I saw her, she was but a child.
I, child quick and eager no longer.
She and I, we’re different,
The difference? She has merely been fertilized;
I have blossomed already.
from: "Me to You", by Alastair Reid
"...write me about the weather.
Perhaps
a letter across water,
something like this, but better,
would almost take us strangely
closer to home.
Write, and I'll come."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Monterrey, Nuevo Leon
Dizzied by the whirl of crowds
On sidewalks, seen through windows --
Reflected in mirrored, columned walls --
I drink, I eat, I mull and fret, I yearn,
Little lulled by homely music
Softly playing beneath sonorous
Strains of Spanish
(Beautiful tongue, not yet my own,
But now not strange to me --
Not wholly foreign.)
I sneak sidelong glances, I peek, I stare.
I feign indifference:
A pseudo-cosmopolitan air.
I am quiet and excessively polite,
Not yet knowing how to be rude
In this still stiff idiom.
And, I am intensely lonely --
Hungry for a caressing, offhand phrase,
Only a stray familiar word, hardly heard,
Whispering all there is to say of home.
Steinbecks California Town
Part of me my love
will always miss
that part of you
surrendered to my heart
the first time
we made love
beside Monterrey Bay
the morning sun was on the rise
as the of the walls of our defenses
came down..brick by brick
kiss by kiss
I fell in love with you
more than I knew possible
in Steinbecks California town
Three days by a bay
long hot showers for two
a room we might forget one day
the scent of passion so deep so intense
we would never forget…ever
lost soul mates discovered
side by side.heartbeat within heartbeat
walking beside an ice cold sea
shared kisses hot as flame
we owned… those days
a souvenir no one could ever buy
I love you more now
than I ever thought possible
in Steinbecks California town
Irish