In the Rainbow Grille.
(a dark, white bar with a country box)
a rock salt-and-pepper corn
bearded tri-colored Blood
in worm camouflage, town
jeans, wearing broken, deep brown
shades, grimey baseball cap
and old, colorless cowboy boots,
played Kline's "CRAZY" over
and over. Spent all his gree,
food stamps and rent
on sweet, warming, meriney wine
chased by burning, fluid amber.
Bought the house many rounds...
and blue, fingering the gold bands
the dog tags on the steel bead chain
hanging from his
...over and over. The record changes.
The old tone arm moves
from left to right; he stands, stumbles
raises his glass as though to toast
Muscles jerk. Bent
over, he jukes
the joint, over and over, he hunches
heaving undigested supper,
lunch's sour mash
corned beef and cabbage,
breakfast's hash, fried egg
on toasted rye. He drops his empty glass.
Glassy stares like shards
in blood and faces
watch it and him, "...go
to pieces." Someone
says, Greenie? He was
a two-tour Beret!
Hell, he'll be o.k.