23 October 2009

Southern Comfort

While cleaning up my jump drive, I came across this poem I wrote several years ago back in college...still love it though.

Southern Comfort
As the jukebox belches out classic country songs,
Dolly, Willie, and Waylon crooning about
Louisiana women, Mississippi men and the
folks down in Luchenbach, Texas,
the pretty young lass crouches on her
bar stool, afraid to make eye contact
with the rough riding motorcycle men who
frequently inhabit the saloon,
but not often enough for them to acquire
the stigma of an alcoholic, branded on
their skin like the bald eagle tattoos
plastered across their sweaty, hairy
backs and chests and bellies, bodies
that have endured years of the cruel sun,
tanning their skin until it’s leather like,
bodies that scare off most women but
attract the butch women, who they
themselves sport similar tattoos, but of a
more feminine nature like the bleeding
red rose usually located on a shin
or a shoulder or the broken heart that
has currently become the principle of many
stereotypes and beer commercials that
strongly resemble the situation in which the
young girl, drinking a PBR and taking a
long pull from an extended Marlboro Red,
has currently discovered herself, and
through the creamy tendrils her cigarette
stub has left lingering in the ashtray,
she wonders how she’s walked from so-called
reality and stumbled straight into a
Southwestern cliché.


CelticLady said...

You should post more of your poems you wrote....I like them of course I am a bit biased but still...

KC Kelly said...
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Blogger said...

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