Tattoos in Mayberry

51,395 poems read

Who can say,
It might work out best
to get off  their well treaded
path.
The path to grow up boy 
Press on through hard rain and snow.
Put down stakes
or hit the road.
Work calloused fingers 
to the bone.
buy a fine, flashy car.
To make some girls
pick out that wonderous one,
who feels the best on my arm.
help her raise her babies.
Drive the kids to Sunday School.
Go all in at work 
A dutiful wife to press and launder
my work clothes
to keep the boss man off me,. 
So, I can continue to put  food on our table.
And pay the insurance on our health, car and house..
Who hasn't thought about
going astry,
walking out
running away..
Maybe
rent an old shack.
stand watch in the back
A trap door entrance
a fence high as haystacks.
an unpublished number
to ward off the cranks
Be hard to pin down
even harder to reach..
After saving a few dollars
travel to Oregon.
Start over fresh.
raise up some hogs
plant a grove of trees
Harvest them big time
in ten or twelve years
Then plant some more. 
Tend goats and a few chickens.
Dig a spillway to farm Tilapia.
Live off the grid.
Harmlessly flirt
 with travelling
circus and rodeo gals
giving them something sweet and unique
to consider trying on for size,
on those
lonesome sleepless nights.
I'd date  healthy farm girls. who 
troll farmer date lines
looking for  hook-ups
with  rough and tumble Oregon farm
boys,not unlike their daddy's.
I'd keep an extra room with a spare 
set of keys 
for short term guests 
for  special occasions

Live high off the fat
of my land.
Save up real money
get a square deal on 
a huge truck
with heavy duty suspension,
customized monster truck tires.
fitted with spiked rims.
Burn a multi-colored
tattoo
to get in tight with the bikers
employing them for muscle
when I need a favor.
Take a second job in town.
Co-manage a hooters
or  Cheesecake Factory
Be rumored now and then
to pack a gun...
Garner community support
doing volunteer work 
at the local food shelf/ shelter
to further pad my
resume to
make a run for Mayor
Passing out personally
engraved novelty items 
to local codgers,
draft dodgers,
and those
little old 
and young ladies
before polling time 
reminding them 
not to keep my election campaign
a secret.
If things got dicey
I could skip town
rent a P.O Box
have only my good mail forwarded
Visit France on a passport
Love is always in season there
Where Mon Cheri  from Paris 
would be waiting for me
until drifting our separate ways.
Since, who can really be trusted
with  dangerous secrets
whispered during passionate embraces
to  be spread  with loose lips, carelessly later on..

This would be my twenty first century safety dance.
As one,genuine, 
 millenial pain in the ass.
It's not that I'm  great as a slacker
It's just that
 I'm up to my neck in
competitive crackers.
.
I could hide out with my Carribean or 
Icelandic earth mama
Who'd be there to cheefully hand wash 
for me all
my clothes and hair.
be my common law wife.
Languishing in our lair
stay up all night.
roast turkey and fish
for dinner.
Flapjacks at Sunrise.
Live off the grid.
Collect rainwater.
Put up solar panels.
We'd recycle all our plastic
and paper.
That's some new age 
trans-national
sweetheart deal.
Maroon her like captive quarry
Make life too pleasant and easy
for her  to run out on me
or go astray.
from my proximate haze.
Until growing weary of her one
and two act play.

My first love was
my mother who washed my dishes
bought my food and clothes.
Paid the rent, and insurance
without complaint
Spoke only when spoken to 
in soothing tones
Even as I grew  up 
mom kissed  my unshaven cheek
holding me steady 
stroking my forehead like a baby
reminding me 
'don't ever change, Son,
God loves you. just the way you are.'.
Mother co-signed all my loans.
Some of them bad.
How could any suitor live up to all that
So, if my lover
 tires of me
My policy is to grant a reprieve.
and petition the committee
for an early release.
exchange parting gifts.
Give her squeaky wheels some grease
then, say goodbye and peace.
 
It's not hard to imagine one day
a lover washing their hands of me.
Like when I'm half asleep
and I stink like a goat 
forget to put up the toilet seat,  
sleep walking to the
washroom to piss in her sink.
And only clean up my side of the bed
every 2-5 years.
I'd understand her search for
a nobler brand than  I 
in which to breed.

Some men perservere to the end.
they won't give up, they never quit,
giving 110% until death, they depart.
I'd first want a written guarantee  . 
I have one life.
Too important for me to throw down
a bottomless communal cavern 
An ultimate sacrifice for clan and race
my ungrateful gift
to my race of people who created me
is why shouldn't
 I have final say
in the living of my life.


I'm not one to save the world
on the evening news...
It's best I stay out of the fray.
If you want my contribution
You'll find me posted up in a lounge chair 
in your bleacher seats watching
well fed, earnest,, slack jawed heroes,
standing and waving
on cut flower floats, at ticker tape parades
I'll be the one plus,
giving your honor guard the raspberry 


All Rights Reserved As Is By Author.

Buddy Bee Anthony













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