What found Jack

It was all confusing,
but everyone else knew the game.
They were all up for it.
The entire game was similar to going to a Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Jack had unknowingly bet on lines in the flick.
Know them or lose what you came with.
For Jack this was a bit too much on line.
If he could remember the movie word for word,
or even recall the scene sequence
he would be at ease.
The entire set up was like a house full of key party players.
Jack stumbled and asked the guy next to him to trade cards.
He could lose his identity,
maybe even Vanessa.

The Brisco Kid 2

After the day of scrap pick'n
ZZ and I were on the way to the salvage yard
when we passed Dry Gulch
back beside JD's old house.
All that defunct carni mosh pit
caught my eye.
There's a hell of a lot of weight lying there?
I questioned
ZZ replyed,
Oh thats old so and so
crazy ol' bastard
goes to all the funerals
just to steal food,
saw his wife fill'n her purse
with potato salad at the Brisco pot luck.
Crazy ol' bastard used to follow the circus or some shit.
Was putt'n a fence in out back that place early one morn'n
and the dog starts a bark'n
out comes this block of a woman
wear'n noth'n but a pink night shirt.
She grabs hold of the dog and
he comes straight for me
just a chargin'.
Well I gotta tell ya
this long tube of a tit falls out of her night shirt
and starts swaying
comming right for me
her, the dog and this long old titty that looked
like it had a bowling ball in the end of it just a sway'n
with an aureola the size of a small pizza.
Didn't know if i should run or laugh
so I just went to stick'n that fence up.

In the Shadows

No one knew her
and her age was not of concern
She wasn't related to anyone
so there could be no
judgement.

Get Up

Bishop had taken a gut shot
but it would take more than that
to put that tower of a man down.
He wasn't one for the crowds
so Jack questioned why he was at the mid-way?
All the colors blended
as the rides turned
there was the sounds of a million phones ringing at once
but Jack knew Bishop
and knew he'd get up.

Nerves

The game was bingo slaughterhouse
it was all in
Jack stood to lose all he had gained.
The next line of the flick was all that mattered
know it, or lose what you possessed.
It was all or nothing and no one had fear.
Jack had drank too much coffee
and
was shaking
and sweating
and feared to lose
what he had found
or what had found him.

Get your Tickets

Jack had just enough to pay for the pair of them.
The movie would start in 15 minutes
Vanessa's friends were there
Jack couldn't recognize any of them
it was if they had been hiding,
elitism at it's finest.
They weren't snobs
they all came across as interesting.
There was some type of gaming going on,
it seemed as though
there was a betting system and they all
were scurrying around.

Men Like Boys

"Why must you men always fight like boys?"
Men?
Jack hadn't considered himself a man,
his age was lost along with fitting in.
Nothing made him feel more alive
than finding someone to talk with
about indie movies, writing or poetry.
Jack was self educated and self medicated
all of which he came by quite by mistake.

Vanessa

"What is your name? Me, I am Vanessa."
"And what happened to your face?, you look like you've been fighting, was it over a girl? Do you love her?"
Jack lowered his head and lit the cigarette she had rolled for him.
"She wasn't worth it," he allowed
"It's old news now," he said touching the back of his head discovering a couple lumps that had resulted in the breaking of his opponents hand.

Drinking and Smoking

He had never seen her in his small town but that wasn't so strange as the place was growing in popularity with seasonal crowds but she really seemed out of character for her surroundings. Jack recognized the bike though, it was a fifty something BMW, he could place it not only by the recognizable emblem on the steering stabilizer but also from the boxer engine that proudly protruded from each side beneath the gas tank. He often dreamt of owning such a machine but rarely could afford to pay the rent of his crummy rooming house digs with the shared bathroom and lack of insulation, where he could hear his deadbeat neighbours fight and fuck, where he had spent the last four years writing short stories and working on a particular piece that never came to a head. He currently was working as a store clerk at one of the chain grocers that had invaded his small town which payed just enough for the rent in the tenant house, so getting drunk and smoking all came by way of good fortune, this was one such occasion.

Black Leather

In the distance Jack could hear the rumble of pipes coming closer, he wiped his nose which was dripping spotlets of blood and arose as the motor sounds grew closer. He could see the bike nearing with a trail of dust to follow. There appeared to be a single rider, thin, dressed entirely in black but not the cliché look of a Harley rider, but moreover that of European resemblance. The bike came to a halt next to Jack and the dust passed as she lifted her vintage goggles. "Well don't you look pretty" she offered as Jack again wiped the drop of blood from the deep cut that crossed the length of his nose. She reached into the rear pocket of her well worn tight fitting leather motorcycle pants and offered Jack a red spotted hankerchief, similar to the kind a train conductor may possess. She then untied the draw-string of her small leather pack that she had been carrying and withdrew a pouch of rolling tobacco. The brand was unfamiliar to Jack, the whole scene was out of one of the independent movies Jack prided himself on.

Three Miles Off

Town was about three miles off and Jack knew he couldn't make it walking, so he sat alone at the edge of throad throwing rocks at the end of a culvert which stuck out a good three feet from the embankment. No water fell from the culvert only dust would cloud when Jack would actually hit the metal object with his projectiles.

The Last Embrace

She ran to embrace him as her few friends looked on in disbelief. Jack wrapped one arm around her as she kissed him. This time was the last, the last time he'd stand up for her honour. His ribs felt like broken walls with jagged corners where they met and his brains had been rattled and flattened. Jack knew he had broken his opponents nose and possibly his hand as well, but in each step Jack felt pain from the big fellow twisting on his foot which had transferred to the popping sound in his knee.

Dust

The fight broke out mid afternoon at a local party house and just as Jack made progress a big beefy muscle of a man would intervene. Jack was holding his own against the pair, at least that's the way he saw it. Surely he landed a few but his entire body ached as he walked the dirt road leaving the party behind.

Time For Change

She had been his first lover and his hers. She had strayed over the years with her blond hair luring different men.Currently, this one was just fucking her for pride, but never the less he was obliged to fight for her. She was sleeping with them both, only Jack carried a history with her.

Summer's End

She sucked the cotton candy right out of the inside of his mouth. South of the border lies the state of obesity, deep fried food, water parks, roller coasters, jaw breakers, truck drivers on speed reflecting lights and engine brakes off R.V.'s lined in semi-circles around propane campfires and cans of Budweiser.

It's the last week of summer holidays as people cram in one more vacation. They come from the North, the South, East and West to ride the steam trains to staged robberies. Me I'm no different, rounding the edges of reality, looking for one last buzz to escape my son's fear of entering high school. Adventure rides calling out like the thrill of jumping from a plane falling through the sky.

There's not many places I'd rather be than with my small tight-knit family in our little 1990 Ford van parked amongst the sleeping giants with their pull-outs and flat screens. To cloud the illusion, I drink low alcohol content American beer which I must admit is a hell of a lot cheaper than it's Canadian counterpart.

We are all part of the process, whether we come from Calgary to Invermere, or escaping the crowds of Invermere to become a tourist in the U.S.

To someone we are all dollar signs or problems.

South

time to fire up Lucinda
roll due south
it won't be Magnolia
but it will be a
breath of fresh air

The Shit That Surrounds Me

i can't think of a place i'd rather not be
this shit hole town
with gangsters and fat tourist women
telling me to shut my mouth
or she'll shut it for me.
I'm about to execute someone
family here for 100 years
and i can't wait to leave
what an endurance
who will pay
me i'll pay for this
by becoming jaded
i swear it's this town
i left it once
and felt like a king.

No Parking

Right now life is like a roll of trick shit paper
where all you can pull off are fragments of it
insomnia with no picture to post of it
and thank god i don't have to read any of my own writing
buggering me up the ass as i try to sleep
and nowhere is the road smooth paved
the one that's rewarding to move on
so i drink and drive the hard drive
and drink at 4:01 in the A.M.
and struggle for words like a defunct writer
and struggle for poetry like drinking from a dried river
and drink too much to ride
and hide in a book about another writer
searching for words
on that head on corner
where I'd be remembered poorly
and how New Orleans
is only a street corner
where no one cares.

Top Of The World

Away from the shit
in the bottom of the valley
It hurt like hell coming
down.

Jack

I want my last days to be in New Orleans
The idea had fell down a long set of stairs.
New Orleans
I await.

Head On

felt like getting hit by an ice truck
lying in the ditch slowly dieing
the other driver in the middle of the road crying
back broke
and whining
I'm a junk yard junky gunna die round the bend
from where I fell twenty five years before
A white car filled
skids
Two niggers, a bald little French man
and a big fucken Indian swing'n a bat
Don't come at me with that
I'll stop you in your tracks
it was your home boy that
hit me dead on
head on

Cuffed

He's a friend of a friend and every time I take a shit I can smell his breath. I met him at the salvage yard, he was pissing into the wind with a broken nose and a mug only a mother could love, I knew right away some guy had gotten sick of listening to him. He's weak, he'd never spent time inside yet he claims he's a leader, but who'd fallow someone who's never wrong.
That was my problem, I drank too much.
A tradition willed upon me accompanied by lack of judgement.
The sun burnt orange as it rose and the blood ran downhill, I was cuffed and knew where I was headed.
I'd been there before.

Moose Lake

Big Trout & Bad Weather

You make it look like
something they want to eat
and then you eat
them

Gone But Not Forgotten

He had a column
called Underwear
the chief publicist
must have shut him down
for lack of pornographic content
I thought about burning my T
in honor
but opted not
as it may be a worthy trade
for a cold beer
one day.

Adios

she slipped away
we parted as I gave her one last make over
she ran off with a man from the low land
so she'll feel at home down by the rivers edge
and I'll hear her cry as she passes
it was certainly a love hate relationship

The fish are calling

Rain, wool pants and the last cigar
catching raindrops on my sox and a buzz in my ear.
Headed for the mountains and lakes
first to cut down some mighty trees
and roll some weeds.

It's All In the Water

Jack was making home brew, it was cheaper and better than off the shelf. The first batch came off without a hitch, so he headed back up Bishop's side of the valley for more mountain water. When Jack got to the spot where the road widened he could see something laying in the the creek bed, as he came nearer he recognized Bishop laying face up and pissing into the air. "What the hell are you doing?" Bishop was literally pissed drunk and singing as he lay in the shallow stream pissing. "Pissing in the wind", Bishop replied. "Well that's my water source for the home brew and now it ain't fit to wash in". "Suit yourself, just thought I'd sweeten the taste a little"

Today

Rain and rainbows and wind blows a coffee stone in the morning.
Old pants with patches and blanket stitches call from the bottom of the pile.
A day as young as baby skin when the pants wore holes in the knees.

A Michi for JD

There was two cold beers when we got home, I thought "That's great Jerry's always up for a Michi". Kelsey's song "Gone" plays in my mind, Sambo's forehead print on the door glass reaches for Japhy and Sue's coffee mate wont start a fire. Like the hail that fell and melted, our early summer rendez-vous has past.