Archive
05/12/09 - (2)
An Uproariously Stormy St. Louis Evening, or Just a Little Texas Ditty
An ornery wind, tonight, stampedes this café's patio, Bullwhips the trees, the scurrying birds, me. Like Wyatt Earp, "Doc" Holliday, Billy the Kid, It's just blown into town, and it's got us citizens up in arms, Scared to the roots of our teeth and our buried ancestors.
From the sky's harum-scarum, helter-skelter patchwork, It seems a ferocious thunderstorm is stalking us. It's eerie-weird, the way the gray yonder shimmers, pulsates, With throbbing clouds sliding in and out of themselves, Like rattlesnakes writhing in your blankets, on a cattle drive.
And now, I've begun to have grave misgivings, myself, As to whether I'll even reach home-sweet-home on the range, Before a bodacious, ripsnorter, fit-to-be-tied gullywasher Cuts across this patio, like a McCullough chain saw, And whittles me into kindling, reduces me to soggy sawdust.
If, at any moment now, as I stumble toward closure, I should lose control of this ditty's tenor, rhythm, meaning, Know that I was swept away, in a flash-flooding arroyo, Drowned in a tributary of the Rio Grande, singing, "Remember, the eyes of Texas are upon the Alamo!"
05/12/09 - (2)
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