"Sleeping With The Dregs"
the man in the shitkicker hat stares
up at the moon
dangling a cigarette in his fat, callused fingers
contemplating whatever it is a man of his hefty stature would
his old lady left him
when the rent was due
and took his grandfather's old rifle
without an explanation
"probably pawned it, the bitch," he thought
as he lit the cigarette and took a long drag
his wildly, unkempt hair blowing in the wind
inside, he missed her deeply
but his manly pride meant too much
the countless hours on the road
in and out of strange motels
fucking women with soft faces
and names like Yvette, Cassie and Lou Ann
eating in diners and driving a beat up '67 Cadillac
he had his shot at being someone once
but he gave all that up when he chose
to sleep with the dregs
(don't forget your blanket, Butch).
(Note: This was originally written April 27, 2004 for my old blog; edited April 10, 2009.)
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
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