The Man.....
His dark bloodshot and crusty eyes squint
from behind the scratched glass of wire shades
Dust filled stubbles of grey and black whiskers
cover the other half of his sun fried ruddy face
Parking his insanity on a cactus stool of thorns
he shoots down shots of worms and Mescal
without the usual inherent need to throw up
The man....licks the salt from his wounds
and laughs under his lemon fresh breath
knowing the Mescal cures what it cannot kill.....
He drinks giving toast to the living dead
As his Compadre Coyotes howl removing some
poor deceased bastard stiff stinking
from the blood stained airtight trunk
of their primo '67' Chevy parked just outside this joint
And two whores in the corner play 'poker' with painted faces
practiced in their trade they ask the one armed dealer
if he knows who the three new Amigos are here to see
And as he deals them another losing hand of the clap
from his compromised deck of fractured cards
The border patrolman who is off duty at the jukebox
sucks his longneck beer and he knowingly smiles......
A true Smuggler's grin
For he knows the answers before they asked the question
even if the bartender and the one arm dealer don't
When
Out from the trap door located behind the bar....
two pregnant women and a boy crawl.....
blinded by The Man's offer of freedom
The Man..
Removes his shades
Wipes his mouth with his bandana
Calls for the bartender to line them up out back
Two Thousand Five Hundred peso for the bunch
Delivered F.O.B. Mexico
2007 © Ted Sheridan
Ted Sheridan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-takes-a-ride-in-the-trunk-of-a-chevy/
