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Monday, April 14, 2014

Poem for April 14



Texas  Roadhouse

Do you remember
      that little roadhouse dance hall
       in Waco where the waitress
       wore red cowboy boots
       and a skirt short enough
       to serve as a coaster?   
I saw you look.

We were there
from the double bronze doors
of the Brownings Museum.  
O pomegranates and olives.
O Little Portuguese.  (And she was!
Her desk the size for a child.)
Those lovers who fled
as we fled parents who said
wrong, wrong, wrong
for each other.  What did they know?
Fools we were taking life by the spoonful.
God, we were crazy in that blue Plymouth
streamed with tin cans and shoe polish
words, pink tissue.  I was so embarrassed!

And hungry.   The best hamburger
in Texas.

Across the road a Sox Outlet.  We read
the word wrong, but you bought a dozen
pairs of black sox that never wore out.
Truly.  I washed those socks forever.
The elastic died a thousand threads.
We could have buried you in them.  
Maybe we did.

Are you dancing now in Waco
with that red haired waitress in her red
stomping boots.  O my darling, dance on.
Dance on.   

 Ruth Moose

1 comment:

  1. Dance on. Good stuff.

    To the verifying powers that I'm sure are to come up: "But what if I am a robot?"

    ReplyDelete