Postcards from Bob

Postcard #6: Akron, OH, Oct. 16, 1998

Dear Rust Belt Rubber Barons,

You asked for references so I offered my AA sponsor.
What kind of drunk was/is Bob?
A twenty years sober, down beat
black out drunk whose crimes against Dionysus
make him most likely to be dismembered.

A pillar of salt by day a Goodyear blimp by night,
I’m one of the Silents, as they once called the deaf workers,
processing zippers for the whole western front.
I’m quitter and joiner with a double “A” bond rating.

Grazing the periphery of the National Polymer
Innovation Center (see exploded image on the obverse
of this card) I’ve reached the primal scene,
Ur-shrine of AA where Bill Wilson met Dr. Smith, and the 12 Steps
became a dance craze. I’ve stumbled up that escalator
to a Higher Power, felt the displacement of lifted
shipping lanes in the locks of canals.

Fixing to bounce back, like a red rubber ball,

Bibulous Bob

soaking through
the cocktail napkin
floorplan of home

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