Saturday, July 2, 2011

The History of Bad Luck

Image borrowed from Bing

The History of Bad Luck

The first time I heard an owl,
Edna told me those disgruntled
echoes bring all misfortune
in Mexico; lost teeth, lost lighter,
lost way. Where I come from
that's called blues--bad luck
revolves around who you borrow
from, and how soon they come
looking. Your neighbors taking
inventory while you're moving in.
Flat tires and hair loss aren't bad luck.
Catching your woman necking
in a parking lot is. Owls have little
to do with gun shots and beat downs;
they straddle a line between blue
and uncomfortability. The day before
I met Edna's parents, this owl
foretold a new blues: her retired
vaquaro of a father working on
the car--Maglite in one hand,
biggest wrench in the world
in the other--me standing there,
gift bottle of tequila slack
like extra rope for the hangman,
owl-shaped target on my cranium.

Adrian Matejka


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