sociology
see the twenty-two year olds
huddled around the pool table
burgeoning dictators
cock-strong
ignorant like
bullets.
see the forty-five year olds
leaning over their beers in silence
smoke
mortar
the impotence of defeat
ringing in their ears.
see the thirty year olds
paranoid
caught on both sides
like deer
hung up
in barbed wire.
watch closely
the leopard eyed women
scattered amongst them
like leeches.
the old red barn
they'd bus in
blacks
from cedar rapids
to play horns
farmer was the sheriff's brother
no trouble there
back pasture full of cars
ames des-moines huxley bondurant
even see plates
from kossuth and wapsecon county
blacks would start
playin the horns
farmer selling milk pails
full of beer
for a quarter
ladies of the night
with blankets
working overtime
out in the pastures
we all got our
pickles popped
at the old red barn
then saturday night
sitting with our girlfriends
watching lawrence welk
in their parent's living room
heads still spinning
from cigarettes
the long hair
in sandals sold us
lawrence playing bubbles
or something else square
we'd be holding their hands
cause that's as far as
they'd let us go
one of us would start laughing
then we'd all fall in
what's funny? the girls would ask
what's so
all gone funny?
they'd get angry
stomping their feet
old dad
yelling down
from the top of the stairs
pipe down
or he'd
toss us out
with the cat.
cattle call
the people
are lonely
but their loneliness
is not sacred
not learned
or aged.
it's banal
like the inside
of a styrofoam
cup.
their love
is faceless
nameless
a blind
stupid force
two magnets
in a
clutch.
1 comment:
Three good poems, especially like the second one. Hey, Iowa City is where I painted my dick black with india ink cuz I was in love with this girl who dated Black guys.
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