| Belly To The Bar A Short Prosy |
A dancing spider
Fandangoing cross my arm
Paused to watch my footwork
As I sidestepped the web
Spun from my own delusion
Sparkling with the tear drops
From yesterdays dew's and don'ts
And strung across the fabled path
Of least resistance with a Dosey-doe
And an Alamen left turn to nowhere
I slipped on a false memory
Of what I thought we had
Swan song diving butt first
To a jarring stop cushioned
By sealing wax from the jar.
The spider who by now thought I must be mad
Flew up and away from my arm
Somehow finding himself hanging
And dangling from a door
Pissed that I got him into this jamb
Skillfully descended down his silk road
To an eight point landing
Squarely upon my nose
He looked me eye to eight eye
Wishing I was a moth
Or he was bigger
Then bit me and with silk tires spinning
Went on his hairy way
After thanking me of course
For the flight or fight response
Recovering from the embarrassment
Of feeling embarrassed by a spider
I rolled onto my stomach
And forcing myself to my needs
I said fuck this misery and poetry crap
And headed for the nearest bar
A shit kicker country joint
Called the Dude Ranch
Having had my fill of Dosey-does
I was ready for a doe or a ho
But no cow call girls were there
So I ordered a Bud long neck
Some chips with chemi-cheese
A back order of Kim-Chee
And bellied up to the bar
Billy Bob was saddled up
Next to my bar stool
Licking a can of Busch Bavarian
Looking over the place
While straightening his scarf
And silver tabs on his cowboy shirt
With gen-you-wine motha o pearl buttons
Damn he had gold toe points on his boots too
This was one slick hombre
But then again so were all of them
Dressed to the Double Bar T's
As the band set up the place began to fill
I licked the last of the Velveeta
Off the nacho plate and hit the Kim-Chee
While all the while wishing for some Kim-She
Something wasn't wrong
But then something wasn't right
The clock behind the bar
Shaped like a steer with the horns the hands
It said 9 to 5 something's missing here
And it ain't just cowgirls
Then they struck up the band
And a cowgirl in drag came out
Singing The Beer That made Milwaukee Famous
Made A Man Out Of Me
Now I got some mental issues
As anyone reading my palm
Or my poems would know
But this was one of those times
When the clarity of my horns of a dilemma…
Bitch slapped me with a jolt of reality
Jerry Springer style forcing me to stop
And take stock of my situation
From the herd out on the North 40
A dude dressed like a cowgirl was singing
In a bar without cowgirls
And Wyatt Earp himself
My Busch Bavarian drinking bar stool mate
Was out on the dance floor
Doing a Texas Two Step
With Wild Bill Hickcock's mustachioed cousin
While the Dalton gang
Having figured I must be some fresh
Not quite ready to meat ya pal
Were edging closer with each passing minute
Suddenly I was wishing that spider
You remember him don't you?
Would have been a Black Widow
Because that might have been my best chance
For a gal on this night
Now anyone who's not homophobic
And has had gay friends knows
They ain't all a bunch of pansy's
And can kick ass with the best of them
So I'm not wanting to hurt any feelings
Especially mine from getting gang thumped by the Daltons
So I had to figure a tack filled way out of there!
Looking back now, I never thought about walking out
Must have been the venomated nose affecting my judgment
Then it struck me like a Pamplona bull
What do all cowboys like better than anything
Well a bar room brawl that's what
So I turned around bellied up to the bar in between Wyatt
And Ike Clanton, looked over at Bill Dalton
Smiled and said "Hey Bill"
"What's the difference between a cowboy and a sheep?"
He drawled in his best West Hollywood cowboy "Whall…"
"Reckon I don't know that un. What is the difference?"
"Sheep don't get drunk on Friday night and go looking for cowboys to fuck!"
Bill swung by Ike's nose I ducked and he hit Wyatt.
Wyatt smashed his mug into Bills face just as he got hit by Ike.
Who was pissed beer got spilled on his new silk kerchief.
About that time the bar tender jumped over the bar
And came out swinging a Dodger bat day mini baseball bat
The singer screamed as she (he) ducked a can of Lone Star
And ran into the women's restroom
Well it said Heifers on the door and the other said Steers
So I guess it was the women's room
Now me I was on my knees again (no not doing that! Get your mind out of the gutter!)
With saw dust on my hands making a beetle crawl line for the door
As I stepped outside, a chair came through the desert sunset
With cactus stained glass window and landed on the hood
Of a police car that had just pulled up
I raised my hands and said "don't look at me I ain't no cowboy"
While trying to brush the sawdust off of my palms.
SHIT! That calls for a beer! I did enjoy that, I had to admit, but
By that time had built up a powerful thirst.
So I walked around the corner and walked into some place
Called The Huntress which looked like my kind of place
Filled to the brim with women the walls covered
With Day-Glo paintings on black velvet of muscular gals with bows
Scantily clad in leather buckskin thong thingys,
And the best part was there wasn't a guy in sight.
YEE HAW!
Wait a minute, something's wrong here...
Fandangoing cross my arm
Paused to watch my footwork
As I sidestepped the web
Spun from my own delusion
Sparkling with the tear drops
From yesterdays dew's and don'ts
And strung across the fabled path
Of least resistance with a Dosey-doe
And an Alamen left turn to nowhere
I slipped on a false memory
Of what I thought we had
Swan song diving butt first
To a jarring stop cushioned
By sealing wax from the jar.
The spider who by now thought I must be mad
Flew up and away from my arm
Somehow finding himself hanging
And dangling from a door
Pissed that I got him into this jamb
Skillfully descended down his silk road
To an eight point landing
Squarely upon my nose
He looked me eye to eight eye
Wishing I was a moth
Or he was bigger
Then bit me and with silk tires spinning
Went on his hairy way
After thanking me of course
For the flight or fight response
Recovering from the embarrassment
Of feeling embarrassed by a spider
I rolled onto my stomach
And forcing myself to my needs
I said fuck this misery and poetry crap
And headed for the nearest bar
A shit kicker country joint
Called the Dude Ranch
Having had my fill of Dosey-does
I was ready for a doe or a ho
But no cow call girls were there
So I ordered a Bud long neck
Some chips with chemi-cheese
A back order of Kim-Chee
And bellied up to the bar
Billy Bob was saddled up
Next to my bar stool
Licking a can of Busch Bavarian
Looking over the place
While straightening his scarf
And silver tabs on his cowboy shirt
With gen-you-wine motha o pearl buttons
Damn he had gold toe points on his boots too
This was one slick hombre
But then again so were all of them
Dressed to the Double Bar T's
As the band set up the place began to fill
I licked the last of the Velveeta
Off the nacho plate and hit the Kim-Chee
While all the while wishing for some Kim-She
Something wasn't wrong
But then something wasn't right
The clock behind the bar
Shaped like a steer with the horns the hands
It said 9 to 5 something's missing here
And it ain't just cowgirls
Then they struck up the band
And a cowgirl in drag came out
Singing The Beer That made Milwaukee Famous
Made A Man Out Of Me
Now I got some mental issues
As anyone reading my palm
Or my poems would know
But this was one of those times
When the clarity of my horns of a dilemma…
Bitch slapped me with a jolt of reality
Jerry Springer style forcing me to stop
And take stock of my situation
From the herd out on the North 40
A dude dressed like a cowgirl was singing
In a bar without cowgirls
And Wyatt Earp himself
My Busch Bavarian drinking bar stool mate
Was out on the dance floor
Doing a Texas Two Step
With Wild Bill Hickcock's mustachioed cousin
While the Dalton gang
Having figured I must be some fresh
Not quite ready to meat ya pal
Were edging closer with each passing minute
Suddenly I was wishing that spider
You remember him don't you?
Would have been a Black Widow
Because that might have been my best chance
For a gal on this night
Now anyone who's not homophobic
And has had gay friends knows
They ain't all a bunch of pansy's
And can kick ass with the best of them
So I'm not wanting to hurt any feelings
Especially mine from getting gang thumped by the Daltons
So I had to figure a tack filled way out of there!
Looking back now, I never thought about walking out
Must have been the venomated nose affecting my judgment
Then it struck me like a Pamplona bull
What do all cowboys like better than anything
Well a bar room brawl that's what
So I turned around bellied up to the bar in between Wyatt
And Ike Clanton, looked over at Bill Dalton
Smiled and said "Hey Bill"
"What's the difference between a cowboy and a sheep?"
He drawled in his best West Hollywood cowboy "Whall…"
"Reckon I don't know that un. What is the difference?"
"Sheep don't get drunk on Friday night and go looking for cowboys to fuck!"
Bill swung by Ike's nose I ducked and he hit Wyatt.
Wyatt smashed his mug into Bills face just as he got hit by Ike.
Who was pissed beer got spilled on his new silk kerchief.
About that time the bar tender jumped over the bar
And came out swinging a Dodger bat day mini baseball bat
The singer screamed as she (he) ducked a can of Lone Star
And ran into the women's restroom
Well it said Heifers on the door and the other said Steers
So I guess it was the women's room
Now me I was on my knees again (no not doing that! Get your mind out of the gutter!)
With saw dust on my hands making a beetle crawl line for the door
As I stepped outside, a chair came through the desert sunset
With cactus stained glass window and landed on the hood
Of a police car that had just pulled up
I raised my hands and said "don't look at me I ain't no cowboy"
While trying to brush the sawdust off of my palms.
SHIT! That calls for a beer! I did enjoy that, I had to admit, but
By that time had built up a powerful thirst.
So I walked around the corner and walked into some place
Called The Huntress which looked like my kind of place
Filled to the brim with women the walls covered
With Day-Glo paintings on black velvet of muscular gals with bows
Scantily clad in leather buckskin thong thingys,
And the best part was there wasn't a guy in sight.
YEE HAW!
Wait a minute, something's wrong here...
