Lord Knows How She Loves That Bushy Mustache and Tequilla Breath On a Sweaty, Tijuana night.

the rhinestones
and sequins make him childish,
vulnerable in a dispensing way.
She watches him tap his foot
on the dirt floor as he jams
the strings of his guitar,
fingers groping, stroking
perfectly as an aside.

She insists their eyes met
during the second song-
corazon, corazon, corazon,
to the same three chords,
always the same three chords.
So she stays,exposing
her legs in a less
than subtle way, while
blowing cigarette smoke
into the rattling ceiling fan,
drinking cheap beer,
waiting for him to
finish.

Shitty morning

An old lady is trudging through the mud with
rubber boots and floppy breasts slapping,
flapping, under a wet, wool coat.
It's raining and I want a fucking cup
of coffee and sure as hell don't want
to talk to her.

She's humming - something jovial - and
it pisses me off even more that someone
could humm when they're covered in sludge.
Naive, I guess, but I'm still pissed.

Her coat buttons are huge, like a
stoplight down her potbelly. I pretend not
to see her and look to the road, hoping
she'll walk by and leave me alone because
all I want is a fucking cup of coffee.

Her boots slide in the grass behind me
and every step is soggy suction. She
stops walking but not humming. I grit
my teeth. I don't know the song.

The rain gets fat and loud and I
wonder what the hell she's doing
back there. I don't turn around, in
case there's still a chance of not
talking to her. She taps my arm.

Your book bag is unzipped.
she says, pointing with a drippy finger.
Your books are all wet.
And with that she starts humming again
and turns away in the rain.

in a military town

It's not a walk,
but a stiff,
meaty shuffle,
back and forth,
across the road,
from bar to mall,
from mall to bar,
tattoo parlors and
barber shops.
All I can do is watch
the shaved heads bounce
up and down
behind more shaved heads
in hopes that one of them
will step in my gum.

JUST TO LET YOU KNOW

For all three of my dedicated followers, I have started a new blog, but it is still under my profile. Check it out if you'd like.

www.billboardshepherd.blogspot.com

"There is a tragic flaw in our precious Constitution, and I don't know what can be done to fix it. This is it: Only nut cases want to be president." — Kurt Vonnegut

SPAM haikus 3

Thank you, servicemen,
for giving me the freedom
to eat SPAM all day.

If SPAM grew on trees,
I would change my profession
to an orchardist.

When I eat some SPAM,
I'm overwhelmed with pleasure,
but not the sex kind.

Try the SPAM diet.
You may, or may not lose weight,
but hey, guilt free SPAM!