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DRUNK IN THE AFTERNOON
1
40 years ago
it was like this
Drunk in the
Afternoon
but then
it was new
Alone on a creekbank
drinking warm
beer
from glass bottles
until
the world tilted
Never questioning
the veracity
of a reality
that trickled
clean water
down the creek
while the 17 year-old kid
drank his beer
& contemplated
his future
Having lived through
40 years of that
future
I look
at another
late summer
afternoon
through
that
singular lens
an old friend
writes
that my
sense of wonder
is
lumbering ahead of me
would that she
were right
I am convinced
it fell behind
2
In this old house
my eyes are close
to the ceiling
when I tilt a beer
to drain
the last drops
40 years of living
happened here
before
I showed up
neutralizing that
has been a drain
on what
might have been
3
"The world
only requires
one poem
from a poet."
--Mark Weber
Damn him.
How'd he get
to the best lines
first?
& how do we recognize
it?
CENTERFOLD ART
It was 1968
& I was using
paper masters
to print poetry
you'd type directly
on them
or draw with
a special pen
then slap them
on an offset press
and start printing
my 4 year-old son
was always
drawing--
--used near
as much paper
as I did
I gave him the master
for page 22 & 23
the centerfold
for that issue
of THE GRANDE RONDE REVIEW
told him to draw
whatever he wanted
& went back to printing
finished, he handed me
the paper plate
told me it was
ready to print
he'd turned it wrong
the page numbers
were at the top
upside down
to his drawings
now he is 35 years old
and I have one copy
of that old poetry mag
centerfold signed
by his small hand
page numbers printed
upside down
on the centerfold
& the memory
of the look in his eyes
as he watched
his art, page
after page after page
of it
come
ripping out of that press
CUTTING UP THE ROAD KILL
I was by the sink
working the big cuts
off a front shoulder
with my Buck Knife
Ed was trimming
the rough stuff
off the big cuts
& trying to keep
his kids
from wrecking the house
Benny was at the table
slicing steaks
a quarter-inch thick
perfect for jerky
Warren was holding forth
with a beer
in one hand
and a joint in the other
Steve came wandering in
and announced,
"Hey Benny,
there's some old guy
out front.
Wants to talk to you."
Benny looks up, blood
to the elbows
and says
"Invite him in."
Turns out to be the guy
who owns this old house
in the canyon.
First lived here with his bride
35 years ago. He is woods
boss for a local lumber company.
His true believing wife
drags him to church every Sunday.
Though he hasn't hunted
in twenty years
he knows damn well that
April ain't deer season.
But he saunters into his
old kitchen, looks around
and grins.
Benny looked up and said,
"Road Kill, Kenny, we couldn't
let it go to waste.
Besides, this sumbitch
cost me a headlight."
Kenny's grin broadens.
"Boys, that ain't the first
old doe that's been
cut up on that
kitchen table. Save
me some jerky."
And he was down the road
while we just kept cuttin'
on that fresh road kill,
horning down the beer
& smokin'.
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