Anthony Watkins's Blog, page 8

Brother James Red Opera House and Baptist Church

reads the sign

in a small coastal Florida town,

seems the son of a Baptist preacher

married an opera singer.

Friday and Saturday night

Ophelia puts on opera

Brother James preaches

gospel the rest of the week.

Some towns folk complained

about sex and violence in the operas

he was quick to point out

there was more in the Holy Book.

The children from the high school

learned how to pray from Brother James

and learned how to sing for the opera.

Ophelia says even though

they were  sinners up on the stage

they could even dance if they like

because it was only morality plays

and not real life.

Rambler Clean Sheets

Washing off four days of road dirt
after driving from LA,
sleeping in the back seat
of that old Rambler,

laying down on clean sheets
in Savannah, washing my face
in that one horse truck stop
outside Gallup and days later
eating at the Italian restaurant
run by those Lebanese brothers
in the curve in the highway in Clarksdale.

Feeling fresh and clean and happy
to have left California behind,
thinking how civilized I felt.

Then I thought a bit more and remembered
how the freshly perfumed banker
took my daddy’s farm and more
recently the perfectly groomed lawyer
took half of everything I owned,
which wasn’t much, and gave it
to my ex and her new boyfriend,

leaving me with a worn out Rambler,
a pair of pretty good work boots,
and not enough money for motel rooms.
And every poor dirty son of a bitch
never took nothing from me except
a cigarette or a dollar
they bummed ‘cause
I didn’t mind giving it to them.

Wear and Tear

The smell of dirt and motor oil mingled

in the heat of the shade

around the big block vee eight

“it don’t run”, he said

when I asked how much.

“Neither do I”, I replied.

We both laughed

and he said a hundred

I gave him a crisp green bill

and he helped me load it

in the back of my old flatbed

“Came out of a Deuce and a Quarter”,

he volunteered. I nodded, I knew,

but didn’t need to say so.

He slipped the chain hoist off

and I strapped it down

de-assembling it in my head

every bolt and gasket

feeling the black grease

under my nails and busted knuckles.

“Got an powerglide to go with it.

It works, too.” Another hundred

and I tied it in place.

Heart and soul of my old Buick,

in a few weeks the drop top

would roll again

both of us sixty four

and the Buick looking a whole lot

better than me for the wear.

The Smell of Soap

In a hotel bathroom

The croissant of questionable origin

At the downstairs lobby breakfast

The bedsheets that seem clean

And the mattress never

as good as home,

but sometimes good enough

and the window unit that means

I will wake with a head cold

the standard in-room coffee service

that led me to usually pack

my on coffee maker.

The excitement of being

somewhere else

and yet the true joy

of returning to our humble home

between the city and the forest,

where all the food

is exactly as I like it,

the bed is perfect

and if the sheets need changing,

it is my sweat that makes them so.

The lure of the road is strong

until I am on it

In a desert full of blood

and broken stones
there is no sound
only the empty wailing
of dead folks souls

surrounded by the folks
still walking guns in hand,
walking but more dead
than the bodies,
no souls left among them

barbed-wire and machine guns
to keep the peace,
for peace is the name
we give genocide
when we are party
to the murders.

There are things

that taste better

than strong black coffee

at 2 am, only I cant remember

what they are.

There are things

more wonderful than going

back to bed at 4 am,

but only slightly and when

I stretch out, head on my pillow,

coffee and Tylenol already taken,

my wife quietly breathing on one side

and our silly dog

curled up in her bed

on the floor next to me,

there might be places

I want to go,

and things I want to do,

but only after a nap.

The Flagger

She stands in

the middle of Highway 71

with her back to

oncoming traffic

one arm holds

plastic orange flag,

the other a cigarette

and a two way.

she don’t give a damn

about a redneck in a 4 x 4

the radio chirps

and she turns the stop sign to slow

and never turns around

Ray-Bans, sun burn,

faded baseball cap

today 71 is a one lane road

and she will make you stop.

Free Breakfast

The hotel sign
Said free breakfast

Cereal, coffee, juice
And microwave
Sausage biscuits

That I will be
paying for the
rest of the day.

Air Travel

The old man in the slightly dirty hat and button down long sleeved blue shirt sits next to the sisters headed to the beach with Louis Vuitton clutches and perfect hair. They all listen to the charming toddler fresh out of charm and the old man rubs his khaki clad knee and wishes the Tylenol would help him not feel the three year old dive into concrete ten feet from attic to garage floor broken feet shattered knees and a few cracked ribs. Lucky, actually. Fully recovered except tiredness brings out the ache deep in the left knee.And yet they will all be in Florida soon, the sisters, the charming little boy, and the old man, headed home for a nap while they enjoy the beach.

Show Tune

On an empty stage

He began to play

the honky-tonk piano

with his left hand,

playing slow, and they

began to drift in from the wings

all casual like, though we know

now it was well choreographed,

they all sang high except

for the one called Rondell

who sang so low, cutting in

deep against the three

singing soft and high,

“We saw Jesus down

at the Barbeque place,

where they smoked ribs

while he smoked Camels, no filters

and Joseph hand rolled a Prince Albert,

licking it slow and just so,

and the girl they called Mary

Magdalene offered him a Colt 45.

And he began to preach as he ate

a pulled pork sandwich,

and they all believed

every word.”

The curtain falls

and the piano plays,

softly one handedly.