|1963: The Lord Giveth
You just wanted to sleep,
The train having arrived,
You'd not seen in 15 years.
She wore that black
Dress, as though it was
A mist that had resided here,
In the valley since 8-tracks
And Spanada; early Dylan
And fake autobiographies
Of Dominican baseball stars.
Or was it, in fact, Dominican
Priests, having the balls
To tell you and your sweetheart-
Who simply wanted to fuck
In peace for life, how
The higher order of things,
Ruled by the star of our show,
The Lord, wanted
Your sweetheart popping
Them out by the numbers,
Which is where that Spanada
Comes in. It relaxes her,
And makes you both forget this
Is written-in-stone not about you.
Blessed Oil in Cabin #3
There seems to be a crisis
In the woods. Sometime between
The fisherman's first drink of the morning
And God's bright light, his wife gave up
On him in dreams; just about the same
Time he had caught a bass
The size of a small town street.
He hadn't always been a fisherman.
He'd hawked agricultural wares
A good part of the way. When that
Went the way of the soil, he grew kids,
In places like Amarillo and Stockton.
He'd wear those bulky catalog shirts,
Smiling, as the fish appeared confused.
In later years, she started coming along,
First for the ride; then to stare at distances,
And wait for the wild bears to come.
She pictured him, reaching for a net,
Like that was going to help. In truth,
She loved his constant belief in this
Being the only answer. So, there
They were: her, curled into
A lovely dream ball on the rugged
Wooden bed, and him, dropping
His morning catch into the blessed oil
He'd brought, on purpose, from home.
I tell you, something spectacular
Always seems to happen in Cabin #3.
For instance, notice those two small
Handfuls of salt, just being tossed on the
Breakfast fish. Marvelous,
As Sinatra used to say. Absolutely, marvelous.