Who’s That Old Man?

Looking at Sixty-two
Right in the face
Reminds me that soon
I gotta get out of this place
Back to the Crescent City
To ride a streetcar or two
Hang with my brother apes
Pay full cover at Audubon Zoo

Looking at Sixty-two
Who’s that old man?
Gotta dance some Cajun
Just as soon as I can
Meet John at Da Leaf
Then relax with David at the Columns
Then real beau coups soon
I can let go all these little problems

Looking at Sixty-two
Born in the magic year 1955
Wanna prove them all wrong
And gonna get out of here alive
Just one more beignet
And/or a Merlot-filled glass or two
Then it won’t be all that special
That tomorrow I turn sixty-two

Rustlin’

Over there over there
In a significant green field
Stands a solitary all black cow—
What’s she doing out there anyhow?
Way past city Taylor
Over by Rockdale way
Twas gonna see my new babe
To see what she had to say
Seems she changed her mind
And wanted a different dawn to come
So I left her elated and alone
And tried to not be so sad some

Next day over by over there
On grass still so emerald green
That solitary cow still held her court
I’d’ve lingered but tweren’t her sort
Back into my fair Rockdale
A meetup with that twist Jezebel
Things were not much different
At least not that I could tell
Seems her time came to unburden
With a song in a darker minor chord
And then I departed westbound and alone
With all the love I could afford

Passing one significant green field with one black cow—
What kind of love did I think I could rustle out there anyhow?

Several Paces Past

Several paces past
The beginning and the end,
Comes the space wherein
We like to try it all over again;
Unsay that awful
Which was sorely said;
Get up earlier
And make the stupid bed.
Say goodbye later
And just hang a minute more or two;
Maybe life could be better,
Not this evermore darkening in blue.
Leavening choices cast
Between the close and over there,
We can render a space therein
We can go for the Happy rather than old soggy despair.
Yes, I do agree!
No, that doesn’t make you fat!
Please, of course I’ll wait for you—
You like me? Well, imagine that!

In Drive In Park

He put the car in drive,
Out the driveway towards Albert Lane,
It would be a new 12 days to pass
Before seeing his daughter again.

He left the window open a crack;
Perhaps she’d forget something and would call?
No, he didn’t like dropping her at Fablehaven;
No, not really, not actually much at all.

His role snap-changed to just an aging man
When moments before he was in a family.
So what if it was only a family in two—
It was all he had here so far west of St. Tammany.

The tears dried absent just as expected,
With old long practice at things not being as one wanted.
Some would exalt giddy at this free, single life,
But he didn’t think that this kind of alone was all that vaunted.

Turning back to home on Glencrest Drive
As another Sunday evening purpled into dark,
He allowed a thought that it was perhaps okay—
And put the car in park.

Looking Up

Looking Up—
I see the Sun has come out
And chased away every Cloud
The cousins Rain and Thunder
Had been playing most very loud

Now the Rays—
Have warmed and dried up the whole place
Dogs and Birds and kids have all came out
No dour faces; no, not a single trace

I know not what may be this calendar season
Just want to run and play without a professed reason

On the horizon—
A rumbling and tumbling of clouds approach
It just might rain before we take our leave
The Sun’s rays scurry and hide beneath dark folds.
So, again come the rains, we do believe

Flashing and splashing—
Rain and Thunder make the scene
Such splendid commotion dazzles the eyes
And the roaring crashes so smite the ears
A thunderstorm is a glorious thing, I surmise

I know not what may be this calendar season
I just hope in the morning I’ll have a nice reason
To be

Looking Up—

Skip Skipping

Time is skip slipping
As the rain comes misting down
I think I really like you
With you I can sing and clown
Time is a sore pouring
The wine is half gone
Dance we again across the floor
We spin and spin until half-passed dawn

Time stops stupid short
You skitter sweetly out the door
You seem positively unsure
If you’ll come this way anymore

Time comes to do laundry
Separate the lights from the sweats
But we’d danced so hand-in-glove—
Always seem to lose at these kind of bets

Time for my daily bread work
Cloths are all neatly pressed
On a misty kind of rainy morning
One must always look one’s best

Because when the time seems right and the Sun supershines
The world may yet crash down but you still must work the mines
Wanna dance?

Sweet Bonnie Marie

Sweet Bonnie Marie
How do you fare?
It grieves me you’re distressed—
Need you a kiss, a hug, and a prayer?

May the following new days
Spread Light and Joy over your way;
And into the yon cold nights
May Happiness and Warmth with you the longer stay

Sweet Bonnie Marie
Of the Shamrock and the Thistle—
If anything I can humbly add
Know well all’s required is your beckoning whistle

Be Ever Grand And Light of Heart
And bring your Smile to the new day’s start

B&W Autograph

His smile
Blunted and shunted off to the corner of a face
The eyes
Hooded, angry, pleading—
A cold Covington, LA winter day,
But Bright Sunny,
But not his smile;
Peacoat buttoned up,
Chin up,
Wondering—
Why was he caged in his playpen inside the chickenWireFence?
Years later they’d say it was to
Keep out the snakes,
But the trauma was past and present,
He had boldly wandered into realms beyond a childhood safe and simple,
In the Brownie black and white photo he kept,
To remember,
To hope,
To repair,
Kept for his own sake
And proof:
QED

My Stop

Sally Somewhat Lovely wondered why all the fuss
She had just been standing there awaiting the bus,
When Bob Horridman stumble stumbled across the street;
Bobby wan’t much to look at, but Sally, he wanted to meet.
Exchanged hellos and embarrassed burps and such,
The two wannaloves stood close but they didn’t touch;
Then Bob stepped off the curb to gather his thoughts
And a Chrysler mowed him down and connected the final dots—
Because inanimate objects always win over flesh and blood.
It dawned a rainy day, the sun came out, but ended with a thud.
Later on the Crosstown bus Sally Somewhat Lovely didn’t cry
She tried to remember his face, didn’t, couldn’t understand why;
She had just been waiting for her end-of-day bus ride home,
Now sitting seared with the image of flashing cloth, blood and chrome.
She looked out to see the leaves were all gone from the oak tree top,
Then the familiar called and she stood to say, “Okay, Driver, this is my stop.”

Luling, TX

Meet me, my lovely, in Luling
Down about the Prairie Lea
We’ll ramble past old Stairtown
And its cud-munching cows neath their tree
Meet me, my lovely, in Luling
South off state highway 80
Right across the arrow-straight train tracks
Give the lie that this is just a fool’s wannabe
Meet me, my lovely, in Luling
Ramshackle in time and space
We’ll shoot down to old Galveston
And together fix up some broke down beach place
Meet me, my lovely, in Luling
Tell your Ma you want just me
Your Pa never did like me that much
So we must run, can’t you see?
Meet me, in Luling, my lovely
Just past Stairtown’s Welcome Gate
Prove the road ahead can carry us,
Just past the train tracks for you will I wait