Check out some samples from the book....
Cautiously, he pulls into his driveway,
cotton-white car, with big blue eyes,
now closing as they both get ready
for a well-deserved rest after a long beat night.
Feeling the care he gives as he slowly
enters his garage, he can't forget the job,
or what it means to be careless, even now,
here, on his own land.
He trembles his way through the kitchen,
Maybe some breakfast, read mail,
Check notes, notice the new drawings
On the fridge, the young ones he patrols for.
A quick shower, glance at the news to see
crime he knows too well, sees too often,
right now wants to forget, as he slips under the covers,
to dream of the school bus carrying his love to him.
(as appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, July 2008 Issue)
They place the coat
the lamp, tote bags,
clothes into the back
of the Cadillac,
out of the Impala,
out of his life.
A strong hug, a hand shake
a softly wiped tear,
trapped in a quickly hidden
they get into the Cadillac,
he in the Impala.
They drive away,
in different directions.
I swear I heard the strings breaking.
The way she looks at me
through moss-covered eyes,
pushes my insecurity
up and out of my mouth.
Anger breast-feeds my tongue
as fire lashes from parts unknown
to my common sense.
as the fury grows,
so do the molten skewers of hate,
thrown from kid-gloved hands.
Storming away from the madness,
my immature glance gathers
four young, frightened and salty eyes.
My friend told me about a nineteen year young
girl, stricken with colon cancer.
first, a little blood in the stool
then, test upon test
for God's sake,
100 evil soldiers
and a disappeared large intestine.
Clinging to the words as he describes
how the family will have to be given
colonoscopies every two years,
for the rest of their lives.
Even the twelve year young.
The picture of that young boy
on the table, with a camera, a laser,
God knows what else shoved up
a passageway that normally says
Briefly, I remember my time on that table
and bless that damn laser for the evil
My friend and I exchange the normal
verbal gasps and sorrowful pleasantries
that normally accompany events of
this sad and horrifying nature.
In ending, my friend mentions,
"They say she's good-looking, too!"
Damn, I knew it.
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