. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Monday, August 2, 2010

Driving Through the Hood with Billie Sue

A poem inspired by a very good friend's tale of her excursions into the physical and psychological world of the lower class society...

Tea and cakes on the dash,
Psycho-analytical notebooks tossed willy-nilly on the floor mat,
Chicken scratch pencil scribbles,
Posted notes and prescription pads,
A topographical map of a madman’s brain,
Empty merlot bottle on the backseat,
Driving through the hood with Billie Sue,

She talks wantonly of young lovers,
A shameless need for physical pleasure,
Interjecting her thoughts on client-centered therapy,
Carl Rogers aspirations slipping like molten silk from her
     overly painted lips,
Pavlov’s saliva on the steering wheel,
Interspersed curse words in the dialogue,
Pointing out past clients waiting at the bus stop,

The AC labors to keep things cool,
A soft lurch and the seat belts catch
     as the old car bounces over thickly weeded train tracks,
Neatly creased pencil skirts,
Damp armpit stains on your blouse,
Velvet pumps intermingling among old coke bottles and several back issues
     of last month’s weekly periodicals,
Cigarette butts crushed in the ashtray,
A faded photograph of Erik Erikson paper-clipped to the visor,

There’s a new prisoner on suicide watch,
Earrings dangle against the pale flesh of her broad neck,
Mouthing obscenities into her purple cell phone,
Crumbling brownstones out the passenger window,
Street signs with bullet holes,
Diluted cleaning supplies,
Hide the power cords,
A pothole dislodges a book on Social Learning Theory,
Albert Bandura falls between your legs,
Lost in the trash there,
Driving through the hood with Billie Sue.


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