Kentucky Woman
Her life,
A single-wide trailer.
New in 58 and neglected.
Her mood,
Beer air, stale and close,
Cigarette burns on worn linoleum.
Her hair,
A rusty yellow Firebird,
Not quite legal, but clean.
Her eyes,
Third-shift piece work,
Hard and demanding.
Her spirit,
Red eyes, with hints of green
Search for a way out.
Stickman
Stickman died young.
Cigarettes and beer,
And a dash of Viet Nam.
Lived life a day at a time.
Not the 12 step program,
He two-stepped through life.
Stories are told about the man
With spread-eagled horse in the Eagle’s Club.
Horse, not Stick, was banned forever.
Alcohol drips at the hospital.
Jim, he said to me, while hooked to the tube,
Best invention ever.
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