Illegal
lap dances,
a
little business on the side,
underage
libations;
Yep,
it all happened
and
no one said a word.
Why
should they?
It
was all in good
hush-hush fun.
But
in this town,
a
place where they
try
their darndest
to
make it as
family
friendly as the
pretty
pictures displayed
on
the interstate billboards,
they
shut it all down,
even
made the owner
float
down the county
streams
in jailbird orange.
That
way the city streams
could
stay clear to let the
leaders
wash their hands
clean. But no matter
what
may come next to that
club
on the corner,
no
one will ever strip away
its
naughty side.
I
wish you could save me,
save
me from the mundane world
of
the church ladies praying
I
will be the one waiting
at
the altar for their daughters,
standing
at the ready to take
the
place of man in their dreams.
I
wish I could bring you
to stand
by my side and show
everyone
the type of woman
I
dream about, let them see
your
curves and your legs and
the
way you know how
to use them both.
But
I need to stop dreaming.
I can see you right
in
front of me in the flesh,
but
you are still just an
imaginary
character playing
to
the far-fetched fantasies
we
pay accordingly to get
a
peek at what we want to have.
My
preacher friend said,
Don’t hate,
appreciate
Your blessing is
coming.
So
I appreciate her,
a
good woman,
a
good sexy woman,
a
good sexy woman
who
loves her man with
a
groovy kind of love
that
makes that guy smile.
Wishing
ill will would be
a
punk move by me,
only
showing that I was
nothing
but a vessel of
jealousy
and envy. So
when
he smiles, I’ll smile.
His
happiness means he’s
been
blessed and I know
it’s
only a matter of time
until
I get blessed, too.
It all
started in a strip club,
drinking a
beer, watching a
less than
attractive brunette try
to coerce
dollars from the men
sitting
around the stage.
Too bad
she couldn’t dance a lick,
the only
person tipping her
a weathered
old man wearing
faded
denim and a trucker’s cap
with a
rebel flag on it.
That’s
when I saw him,
an
acquaintance from years before.
We met at
a bachelor party for
a mutual
friend, a sordid affair
where ten
young males
drank
themselves to oblivion
as we
watched a stripper do things
to Life
Savers and quarters that
none of us
had ever seen before.
Remembering
that started our
conversation,
a talk about nothing
in particular,
just as another duo
of less
than average women
sauntered
in front of us, ready
to dance. Then
he made a proposal:
We would
blow this place and
hit the
town; I was driving, he
was
buying. Of course I did what
any other
young, red-blooded,
up-for-anything
male would do;
I got
ready to drive.
