Lucky Disaster
It was eleven
o'clock
Thursday night at the Lyric
and the Tom Miller Show
I was
there with my camera
notebook and pen
waiting for poems
I'd been
drinking beer
since five o'clock that afternoon
about seven or eight
pints
I couldn't remember
but it didn't show
I was happy and
reserved
Things were pretty dead that night
about ten people mostly
friends of Miller
I sat at the bar
drinking a Guinness
then ducked
out the side with a friend
smoked a couple of bowls
and after that the
show started
there was Miller
at the mike
one story and poem after
another
the crowd lit
with laughter
whoops
and driving
applause
In my usual style
I snapped a couple of pictures
but
then the room grew dark
it wasn't the lighting
it was me
I had to do
something, quickly
so I staggered out the door
for some fresh
air
walked over to the Hippodrome
and sat on the steps
then, head
still spinning
I lay down
and, looking up
saw a sky full of
stars
the comet had long since
set over the horizon
And then the
visions came
of spaceships like spiked bulbs
and giant silver
snowflakes
streaming into my skull
sensory overload
filling my
brain
a giant meshwork
of alien information
and then it faded
and
I again saw the night
the stars
felt the steps
under my back
saw
the Hippodrome
the Lyric Cafe across the court
and the Tom Miller
Show
I got myself up
and headed for the door
about half way
there
in my dazed state
I sensed a warm wet mass
shoot out of my
ass
Oh, damn it all
I hadn't felt it coming
and now what to do
I
couldn't go back inside
as risky and daring
as Miller's shows
were
they weren't ready for this
I staggered to my car
got in,
reclined the seat
and lay there for ten minutes
in the stench
then
came the thought
what if my friends came out
to check and see
what
had happened to me
the embarrassment
would be too much
I could hear
them saying
the old fart drank so much
he shit his pants
I couldn't
deal with that
it was worse than death
or the cops
I started my
car
and headed home
carefully
after about a mile
there they
were
on my tail
flashing lights
a short blast of siren
I pulled
over
and got out
they came up
two of them
looked me over
"Can
we see your license
and registration please?"
the tall black one
said
I pulled out my wallet
the lower half was wet and stank
I
handed it to them
"Please remove your license"
the short, white one
said
they had kept their distance
I guess it was the smell
I handed
over my license
"Please place it on the car"
they said in unison
then
the tall one leaned over
and copied down the numbers
They walked
back to their car
talking in whispers
then came back and said
OK, be
on your way now
I picked up my license
got in my car
and drove
away
realizing
the stench and stain
had saved me
they wouldn't
drive around
the rest of the night
with that stink in their car
and
diarrhea
soaking through
their back seat
I figured
I had been
saved
by some evil shit karma
that had streamed from the sky
When
I got home
I opened my door
rushed for the washer
put my clothes
in
with plenty of bleach
I no longer cared about the colors
then ran
for the shower
it had clung to my ass
like a second skin
with bits of
pepper and corn
so I peeled it off
and soaked in the stream
soaped
from head to toe
and rinsed
and soaped and rinsed
again and
again
Afterward
smelling like a freshly powdered baby
I relaxed
into my easy chair
lit a cigarette
cracked open a beer
and began to
write
Preacher
It was a
typical
Saturday night
we were out
at the bars
drinking
It
was 2:00 AM
and we had just left
when we saw him
He had on a
bright red jacket
and a bible under his arm
and preached
God, and
chastity
and temperance
"Put your faith
in the lord" he
said
and "only Jesus
can save you"
Some ignored him
others
swore
and still others
pushed him
out of their way
as he
tried
to engage them
in an argument
on morality
and the
evils
of drink
and drugs
He harassed them
pushing and
shoving
one after another
but the cops
hassled the beggars
and
never challenged him
We watched
as he turned
in the
moonlight
and beneath
his red jacket
we could see
a 45
automatic
in case God
didn't show
up in
time
Again
"Hey," she said
"are
you Ron?"
"Yes," I said
"That's me"
"I really liked
the
pictures
you took
of our band"
"Oh, you're
welcome,"
I
said
"You take
really good
pictures,"
she said.
"Oh,
I'm
just an amateur,"
I said
"No I really
think they're
great,"
she said
"Would you like
to fuck me?"
I
said
Then she frowned
and walked away
and never
spoke to
me
again
I Drank, She Said
There's not
enough time
I
said
Then we'll make
time
she
said
Let's have a drink
I said
Let's make love
she said
Let's have a
drink
I said
She
said
that's all
you
ever think
about
and then you
can't
get it up, you
wake
up in the
morning
and instead
of
coffee you
pour
yourself a
stiff
one or crack
open
a brew or
pop
a cork, your
liver
must be pate'
by
now and
your
brain so
fried
you shake
at
everything but
me
Le-e-et's have a
dri-i-ink
I said
Oh,
a-a-all r-i-ight
she
said
Just One More Sip
If I were to
take
another drink
it would be death
raw and blinding
my
blood dripping
from a whore's teeth
at the edge of time
this fear
seems perpetual
yet over the space of hours
dies in moments of
delight
drained from a glass of wine
so I kill another
and yet
another bottle
lie then
in a stuperous state
lids half
open
face numb
my world spinning
brain in
orbit
and the very next day
my head beneath
a
sledgehammer
amused
to be still alive
Notes on Waiting for Five and the Bottle
* Lucky
Disaster - Ron would sometimes announce when reading this poem publicly, that
the part with the police officers never happened. The rest of it did, though.
I remember. I was there.
-- Tom
Miller