Anymore

I was in rehab
with this Bama
chick once,
not the one
I married.

She cried
great tears
while she prayed
I remember
believing she
could have
washed Christ's
feet.

Her old man
had shot her,
twelve gauge,
long time ago.

She remembered
that
he cried for her,
offered her
a smoke.

She killed him later.

Run off from rehab
with a dare devil guy,
rode motorcycles,
I heard he
beat her ass.

I don't believe
in as much
anymore.

A Rollie Upon Waking

That morning
sitting up
in a never-made
bed, and
rolling a cigarette-
its ends
unkempt with
brown-golden
tobacco
and loose bits
all in his lap-

he thought
of her.
He no longer
gave
a damn.

He thought that
ends of his
rollie looked
like an old man

like him

with hair growing
from his ears,

he thought
of her
and wrote
a poem

because

he no longer
gave
a damn.

T.V. Dinners with Dad

When

I was a kid

my dad 

would

sometimes look

over at me 

and say 

Point the antennae at Memphis,

and I would 

go outside and 

wonder


which way Memphis was,

and I would 

twist

the aluminum pole.


After a moment

he would shout,

Okay

and I would 

come back in 

and watch T.V.

with him,

enjoying 

my Salisbury steak.