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