I stopped at a Waffle House
off the highway somewhere
between Mobile and New Orleans.
I don’t remember the name of the town
between Mobile and New Orleans.
I don’t remember the name of the town
but it really doesn’t matter.
Most of the stops on that road
seem like a bad verse
from a country song anyway.
As I was eating my breakfast
I overheard conversation
between my waitress
and one of her coworkers.
It made me stop and think
about where it starts to go wrong.
The first time hope falls like a stone
and hits you square in the gut,
when a blue cross appears in the window
of that goddam little stick
or what starts as a lover’s quarrel
ends in stitches and flashing lights.
The weight of the indignities, in time,
sucks the joy out of life like bedbugs
feeding on an invalid. Surrender
is shitty perfume and sorrow
doesn’t compliment anyone’s eyes.
I left a twenty for a twelve dollar tab
and went outside for cigarette.
I tried to think back to where it started
to go wrong for me. How did I end up
here on this road so far from where I started
and so far from you.
SMG
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10 comments:
Like it very much, Steven. Great imagery, especially like this line" ...sucks the joy out of life like bedbugs feeding on an invalid..."
eden
"Surrender
is shitty perfume and sorrow
doesn’t compliment anyone’s eyes."
That is so cool. Great piece.
I cannot possibly give a rating since there is so much space always between good and needs work. I would advise some trimming here, as I always do, but I have unfortunately neglected to copy and paste so that I could give more specifics. Wait one more comment for an example.
For instance, and forgive that the copying destroyed the line breaks:
As I was eating my breakfast I overheard conversation between my waitress and one of her coworkers. It made me stop and think about where it starts to go wrong...
Could become:
Eating breakfast, overhearing my waitress
made me think where it starts to go wrong
Perhaps omitting coworkers is drastic, so I'd give you that if you don't want to let it go. I think the other cuts are solid and you could do with more of the same throughout.
i like how the story develops - how you go from that scene that plays in front of your eyes - the convo you overhear to the really personal stuff... it's often the small things on the way that touch something in us... fine write...and greetings from berlin...i'm on a little holiday here at the moment..
I love poems like this, poems of real life & real people & things that go wrong......and sometimes we don't really know why! Perfection.
how does it happen...i dunno, often i dont think we notice until we are so far gone there seems to be no getting back to the way it was...though we will try to fool ourselves and think we can....
I like the ending verse, that just hits ~ It made me think what happened for the person to go a road trip by himself ~ Happy OLN ~
Maybe not cowboy poetry, but not far from it. It's all about being on the road, going wrong, doing wrong, lying, cheating, fast food, fast women, fast cars, and feeling foolish. I just love it - don't you - it's America, and everything changes to stay the same.
Blues-struck just down the road from New Orleans
Outside the diner, smoke rings
don't tell what it means.
A saxophone and a bass guitar, your poem and voila.
A piece of life sung along a bumpy road.
Cheers!
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