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D. B. Cox |
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the legend barroom is smoky he swears that he knows me i lie, say "no way" & move to a corner booth where I sit & stare into my bottle like a gypsy fortune teller trying to place the face… high school badass loved to fight ate glass for breakfast & pissed razor blades drink you under the table laughing too loud forever looking to make trouble his own slow dancing with the wrong woman in the wrong bar on the wrong side of town around him, you were always out on a limb -- slipping toward a night in the drunk tank hell yeah numero uno small-town desperado a fucking local legend… now -- a blast from the past sunset in his eyes bravado, decades gone hard-earned stories boring the hell out of a young lady hanging at the bar clutching a baby-blue cellphone, like she's waiting on a call from another time zone… (Poem Brothers pulled because it has appeared on another zine) forever seventeen - on parade in the old man's coupe deville past the neon arcades & curb service joints strewn like endless options along the friday-night boulevard an unchained soul, liberated by a slick v8, & a dollars worth of high-test - 25 cents a goddamn gallon... singing along with the car radio; the bobby fuller four - "i fought the law, & the law won" knowing if things get slow there's an all-night pool game down at the crossroads a grudge match -- "fountain inn red" versus the "left hand of god" -- jimmy hodges no cover charge… or i could just pack it in, head home & watch the twilight zone the one where gig young walks back in time to his old home town & gets the bum's rush from his own father… yeah, just another friday night no hurry, no worry like a rolling stone -- back when satisfaction was a honky tonk woman -- & time was on my side… |