“Dream of Beverly & Trampas”

Hurry and drop old sun,

Let black night’s blanket

Hug round and glide

The way back to the good.

Wearing puka shell necklace,

High top converse & LED watch.

High five the fast ride,

The backroads at night, the wood.

Beverly & me slip in the beer,

Beefsticks and cheese.

Play bingo in the back row,

Watch the movie on the hood.

Sic ‘em Trampas, sic ‘em.

Catch that rabbit by the cave,

Fight the wolf-dog after midnight,

Running red streaks when you could.

Beverly made me a Hobbit cake.

She read Lord of the Rings

Her senior Tornado year.

What a sight-

The Red Book of Westmarch traversing high school halls pressed against a Texas girl’s bosom.

I venture her adventure was ne’er traced again within those walls.

Combat with the wolf-dog

Took up more & more of Trampas’ time,

‘Til one day old Tramp didn’t even

Rest long enough to come home anymore.

I think those two still battle.

I may see them in my dark dream, in a silvery glade,

Surrounded by nightbirds and forest critters unseen.

Sic ‘im Trampas!

I don’t know if Beverly still has

The stuffed animal from the big fair that I won for her.

(She named him Smeagol)

She claims she don’t miss Texas, well I bet Texas misses her, like I miss Trampas.

“The Scenic Route”

They had good times

Riding up the scenic route

To Knoxville for shopping,

Eating out, and people watching.

Passing through Tellico Village

When it was just beginning,

Seeing the mansions being built

On water’s edge bereft of livestock.

The fun to be had was great in

K-Mart, Target, West Town & Sam’s.

(That big Kmart on Kingston Pike,

Long closed now-had a great deli/café.)

She loved to look at greeting cards.

He loved to rummage through books.

Finding a bargain was great fun, on

Shopping trips with the Mother & Son.

“Duty in the Sea of Japan”

7-1-1951

The U.S.S. Princeton flattop

Plowed the grey Korean waters,

Lighter by one Golden Dragon soul.

Seaman AM-3 Tubby Watson,

Sailed away from Mount Vernon,

Returned home in a casket

On a somber funeral train.

Never to ride upon Trigger again, or

Run with his dog Hitler in the wood.

Mourned and remembered by all

That knew of Tubby-his service, his good.

“Ennui vs. Tattoos”

Well I’m old.

But I learned a thing or two.

The main thing being,

It’s easier to get marked than be marked.

Everyone is so consumed with ‘ISMS.

Lennon warned us in

“Give Peace a Chance”

Yet the deafness abides.

Listen children, listen-

Feelings linger, but they are real.

Tattoos are impulsive and lose their appeal.

Consider the lineage before you commit.

Being lonely and distraught is

NOT the same as having  a biker

Altamont singed on your buttocks.

Consider the results, please.

Be free, live the moment, feel the force

Rushing you through the framework

Accepted as your life.

Be not the slavish wife.

Get Pooh Bear tatted on your

Hundred Acre Wood, &

Admit that Who Killed Cock Robin

Is Irrevalent.

“The Last of the Hat Creek Boys”

Gone are the moonlight riders,

Cowboys geared for prairie work-

Wearing boots that seldom shined,

Hats that four winds couldn’t budge.

Lost are the sounds of spurs a-jangle,

Cow-town saloons lighting the night,

Whiskey, cards, & Buffalo Gals

Wiling away the mirage of black velvet.

Forgotten are the bravehearts,

Their swagger now tempered with canes.

No longer the Kings of the range,

Faded into the backpages of old books.

“Bada Bing! The Passing of a Soprano”

Silvio and Carm send regards-

Leaving as how you have Drop-

Kicked the slam start of summer.

Where is Gary Cooper, indeed?

Read your paper.

Watch the ducks

Swim endless circles

Cleansing their souls

In big blue.

Returned to Italy, in Italy.

Don’t stop believin’.

Abyssinia Tony.