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To A. Loudermilk's previous piece
Crooked County (at The Bluebird with You) Belly to the back of her double bass, 7 months pregnant & hot as hell-swat, pluck, wail & make me jealous. I want to be that baby. Old Slew Foot, Jr. I want to be borne of that bass-belly into this tavern smoke & tied by her mean strings. And you, you sit behind me: you & your shit-eating grin & your tapping foot & your dare whispered into my ear to write a poem of all things before I pass out tonight drunk & over-toked at 4 a.m. when the rest of the world is usually chasing me out of their dirty chat rooms. You point out the girl who gave you something. She sways to a cocaine dirge. I'm not jealous of the girl who gave you herpes. But yeah I'm jealous of the girl you wanted. On stage the baby kicks & I cross a bridge to momma's sloping shoulder. Her fingers sting & she sings about falling into rings of fire. Buddy, you got to know I want you but I'd trade you in half a whiskey-shot to have that voice, big around the middle & broad across the rump. Looks a lot like me.
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