Billie Dee
Wild Turkey
Mike and the boys drop by so we sit up all night knockin back shots,
telling jokes and counting all the times we got our hearts broke.
Old Bob tries to sing along with Johnny Cash but his dentures keep slipping
and when we crack up he gets mad and stomps out the door.
It’s getting pretty ripe in here and our eyes are watering or maybe
it’s the old songs and all the stories of when we was kids and had a future
or maybe it’s just them onions Mable chopped and fried with the hash browns.
Sam keeps getting sick. I walk him outside so he don’t mess up the rug
and then Mike shows us his new Chevy crew cab and says we should go
cruising. We all hop in and that’s the last thing I remember.
after the fist fight
eating ripe peaches
on the back porch
About the Author
Billie Dee is the former U.S. National Library Service Poet Laureate. She earned her doctorate at UCI, has won numerous poetry contests, publishes online and off. She lives in the Chihuahuan Desert with her family and a betta fish named Ramon.
A bit of good ‘ol boy Americana full of sensual imagery. Well done.
Thanks Terri. It’s written in 1950’s “Swabbie talk”, a voice I often overheard as a child growing up in San Diego, California–a large Pacific fleet U.S. Navy port. My father was a WWII veteran who, though normally well-spoken and articulate, would lalpse into these speech patterns with his old Navy buddies over beer and cigars. I believe my fascination with language and dialect began there.
interesting. Thank you for sharing.