“After Dark Review”

 

c. 2020 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(11-20)

Ten o’clock.

With the seasonal time change in effect and my day shortened accordingly, I sat at my desk on Friday night. A brief interlude on the porch notwithstanding. It was too cold for pausing on my outside perch with a brew for longer than a couple of minutes. I felt banned by the march of falling temperatures. Yet still, I stood up to the fading sun with hope. The yellow globe warmed my heart with its dependable streaks between the clouds. Watching the familiar orb droop low in the sky, I raised my beverage in a toast.

Fire from beyond. Be well, old friend. Be well.

At the desk, my mood was more somber. Not so impulsive as during the reign of summer. Uninhibited by the temptation of alcohol and bonfires. But I drank in fresh inspiration from my Miller Lite. Words bubbled like the liquid grain on my tongue. I tipped the white-and-gold container backwards, and began to compose:

Pop-top can

An aluminum praise for the everyman

Damn!

The great ‘I am’

Watching over

A four-leaf clover

Swivel and kick

This ain’t no carnival trick

I’ll ride the horse

Across the golf course

An alligator

At the department store

What am I here for?

Friends ponder the chase

But I’ve got things to say

Words spit out of my mouth

Like teeth from the maw

Of a son of the south

This is my house

My title bout

Fighting for a trophy

Not claimed since 1983

Can’t you see?

This ghost is me

Wandering across the plains

A new mother with labor pains

Giving birth

To Mother Earth

A woman of worth

More than any pirate poet

Fool’s gold in the gullet

I haven’t given up yet

Spin, doctor, spin

This is the way to get in

Inside, two-speed powerglide

Tan your hide

Going steady

Mickey Mouse says “I am ready!”

On a quest

My S.A.T. score passed the test

Hand over my breast

The judge laughs

“You’re showing ass!”

Foolish boy, playing with toys

What did you expect, a gold star and a paycheck?

Hung by the neck

Bushel and a peck

I rise in the moonlight sky

Like the stench from a pigsty

My, my, my

The dream will never die

But now and then

It comes around again

It’ll flicker like the flame

Of the Raven crowing a beloved name

Lenore, Lenore

What are you asking for?

I got my beer in hand

So strike up the band

I’m the chosen man

With a plan

Chosen one on the prowl

Let the moondog howl

Let the wolves run and howl

In the moonlight

It’s alright

Don’t get uptight

I’m the one, I’m the one

The seventh son

Just having fun

Wild and loose with some Mountain Dew

Koo-koo-ka-choo

Did you really think

That you could share my drink?

Close enough

To swirl in my sweat-stink

Kitchen sink

I’m on the brink

Order! Order!

There are Russians on the border

Step and kick

Commies make me sick

I’m ready for apple pie

And salvation in the sky

America will never die

As long as the stars and stripes

Wave through this night

Fort McHenry

Shrine of history

Hee hee hee

Oh say, can you see?

There’s a glorious light

On the ramparts where heroes fight

Let the cowards take flight

I’ll be here all night!

Miller Lite!

Miller Lite!

Pop-top pundit on the sand

I am a modern man

QR scan

I yam what I yam

Nonsense rhyme spoken to be broken

Dribble, pibble

Played till the end

I’ll say it again

Hear me, friend

I’m a wanderer from another age

A bookbinder who’s turned the page

Lost and lonely

I think of you only

Stone in my craw

And a thorn in my paw

Don’t fear my intentions

I’m too far away for an honorable mention

Beer can

Tricks the man

Toes in the sand

Strike up the band

Bird in the hand

I can’t think straight

With my taste buds bearing the weight

Of pilsner pure, Saas hops and the rest

This thing I kept

Scribbled notes from my driving test

Deep in the family crypt

Like a talisman from Egypt

Magic mortar

Flung across the border

Flying rock

Stuffed inside a sock

Piercing the air

Like the wings of a gamecock

Turn quick and look

Turn quick and catch the hook

This is my book

My scroll, my bible

Preserved in the temple

The hourglass is full

Clock-hands swing from midnight to null

Zero hour

Petals of a flower

Brillo pads scour

On my knees in the sewer

Kabobs on a skewer

Somehow, still pure

You can be sure

This road to damnation

Runs straight into the sun

Fun, fun, fun

I’m the chosen one

Phasers on stun

Katie bar the door

I’m on the barroom floor

Wiggle, wobble, wretch

Here doggie, fetch!

Bring me whiskey

And a key to the city

If you please

What did this rush of prose poetry mean? I could not be sure. Perhaps it was nothing more than the result of beer and Southern Comfort. Or maybe… a visitation of my personal muse. Possibly just the stores energy of many nights when I went to bed without first sitting at my desk.

Whatever the cause, I was grateful.

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