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Harold stood at the sink in his gas station,
and scrubbed his hands again.
Another day gone of fixing tires and spitting with his friends.
The oil under his fingernails has been there for years.
He turns from the sink and gives Gill a wink and says,
“Let’s go get us some beers”.
They
fall into the company truck,
which is also his family car,
It belches and roars as they slam the old doors,
and rattle their way to the bar.
Arlene sits by the vending machine,
in the same seat she’s sat in since she was eighteen.
She welcomes the boys as they saunter in,
gives them a pat and a half-hearted grin,
and asks “what can I do you for.”
(which is to say, “How can I take your paycheck away?”)
They
reply to the gal who’s now pretty as mud,
“Gimme a Miller, and I’ll take a Bud.”
She
slides them some pretzels and icy cold beers,
and turns up the TV and sits back on her rear.
“My
wife, she don’t love me.” Harold said with a sigh.
Gill only shook his head ‘cuz he was a quiet guy.
“She
hates me fishin’ and says that I smell,
and when she comes home from church, says I’m goin’ to Hell.
I tried bein’ nice so I bought her a boat,
and she started screamin’ and grabbed up her coat,
and grabbed up the children and stomped on the floor,
and she called me “shiftless” and kicked the screen door,
and left for her mom’s and I ain’t seen her since,
but I wish she’d come home and help pay the rent,
‘cuz I do all I can but I just can’t do enough,
and now that boat payment’s gonna make my life rough.”
“Well, she just didn’t know what she had.
I wish all my children had them a dad.”
Arlene said as she swatted a fly,
and watched the little critter wiggle and die.
And
then once again, someone opened the door.
A tired soul enters same as before.
And
spins yarns of woe and tales of bliss,
and brawls over nothing and dreams of a kiss,
from Arlene. |
