Ol' Thang

Sortin’ thru my stinky old drawers...here’s one from the bad old days.


I stomped inside
wearing nothin' but
my Tarzan shorts
flip-flops and attitude,
the drunk tank next door
still chorusing,
'Woooooo....put him in here!'
and
'Say, ol' thang!'
I pushed up to
the only bare, greasy seat
on the mattress
and planted my angry ass,
staring at the bar shadows on the floor.
Everybody looked at me.
Corn Nap said,
'Say, ol' thang, that's MY bunk.'
I looked at everybody.
'Fuck You,' I said. 'What are you in for?'
I thought that's what
you were supposed to ask.
And say.
Turns out everybody
ends up asking it.
And saying it.
'Transfer to Huntsville,'
said Corn Nap.
'For what?'
He squeezed thru,
squeezed in,
sat next to me.

'Murder.'

He put his hand on my knee....ol' thang.
I returned the favor,
hand on his.
I got close enough for
him to smell my 48 hour breath.
'Man, I'm 'sposed to be in Dallas,
gatherin' up
'bout 5 pounds of Mexican weed,
spendin' the weekend
in a hotel room
just off Harry Hines
swimmin' in the pool
fuckin' my old lady
relaxin' for a hard week
of skitchin' on pink
hydrochloride rock
sellin' weed
fuckin' my old lady,
and
slappin' little fuckers like you 'cause
they didn't pay off the front on time.'

Corn Nap squeezed back
through the shadows
to the bars
and stared at
the bar-shadow light
over the pay phone
for awhile.
The dude yelling into the phone
with the cord stretched
through the bars
ignored him.


If it hadn't of been for the
big fucker-
they hauled in about 3 am....

I wouldn't have slept on the cigarette butts.