Al Fresco Cafe Poems #173

AL FRESCO CAFE POEMS #173

RENATA’S POEM: THE BIRTH OF THE AUTHOR #13


Six packs whiplashed to jump
Through tires on fire in all of
Five wedding rings of Ringling‘s.
A hammer crossing a sickle festooned
The roulette squeaks. Rum
In white-lined coconut shells
Is being sold as discounted BMW auto parts.
The croupier yelled that more pronouns
Were needed for Christmas decorations.
He preferred pronouns in crepuscular
Crepe de Chine accompanied by
Crescendos in the tympani.
“Let us all be carefree and say
Howdy to history,” concluded Epictetus
In his epithalamium written
For the divorce of Adam and Eve.
There were grievings, drum-beating,
Pow-wows, courses in greasing
Double-plays, courses in masculining
Forward-pass throwing, mass therapy
For crankshafts and backroom cartel games.
A wreath of splinters from rural Alabama
Honky tonk floors were jammed
On the head of the Poet Laureate,
Bands of blouses and bodices
Marched and played bongo trombones
In a funereal procession
For a Congressional medal of honor still alive.
At the Al Fresco Café everyone
Drank more and more cocktails
As they had visions of terrorists
Hidden in the wooden race horses
That galloped down the street.

This poem is from the late shoe period of Renata


Duane Locke

Posted over on Zygote In My Coffee