His Heart Hanging Wet On The Line

That drill was hopping ass up and down...

...Boy, it loved so to fuck the sweet dirt!...

and the soil sizzled red-hot and brown,

looked as if the fierce sun truly burnt

all the grass right outta this town,

leaving not a spare sprig in his sight...

...but this always was Jesse’s job,

and if he had to he’d hang here all night

he would do it for their lil’ girl

who was nowhere now closer to three...

through chesnut curls he’d see her smile

bouncin’ right there on his knee...

now as he felt his pearly whites

rattle wild like mad bees in his head,

as if gangs of billard balls broke

loose from pockets with hardly a thread,

he imagined tiny Sally, and

her Mama Margerie who’d

won his heart and hawked it

for a plot, and blue RV...

They lived close to Marges Mama,

but Jes couldn’t give a plug...

she was over more then they’d wanna,

tho the fishwife would bring the hot fudge...

so through it all they loved and they lived

in these pockets of borrowed time...

...and there weren’t a thing that

Marge wouldn’t do for this man

with his heart hanging wet on the line...

...besides that she worked her

fool hands off

at the factory nearly each day,

and when she came home

her shit back ached,

but when bleary eyes met, she’d assuage...

That drill was hopping ass up and down...

...Boy, it loved so to fuck the sweet dirt!...

and the soil sizzled red-hot and brown,

looked as if the fierce sun truly burnt

all the grass right outta this town,

leaving not a spare sprig in his sight...

...but this always was Jesse’s job,

and if he had to he’d hang here all night.

©

5/23/19

Bunny Villaire

(Edit #2)