Inspired by the book, These Fair Days by James Meyer.
Biscuits and Gravy
Thank you for all the beautiful, marvelous stories of life in rural OK. I hope you don't mind I referenced your book. It's too good not to be shared around the world!! One Trick Pony this serving of Biscuits and Gravy is for you.
Certain things go together
And whether you like it or not,
White milk gravy goes with biscuits.
Momma made the best of both
And don't even try tellin me
That your's did or your pa did.
Cause it's goin be a bold face lie
As sure as the notion of cornbread
Not bein made with buttermilk, and needin sugar!
When I was ridin bikes and barefoot,
I could eat 5 or 6 biscuits with gravy,
On a Saturday mornin, after watchin Clutch Cargo.
That's just how things were back then;
Eatin breakfast was for taste and fuelin,
Addin eggs and sausage to the mix was the fire.
Then I'd leave that table with hair uncombed,
Slammin the screendoor behind me,
Be gone all day until the street lights came on.
Durin those hours, action was the verb of choice.
Bicycles had no fenders, gears, or streamers;
They had two wheels, handle bars, and chains.
Mostly they had brakes too; sometimes they didn't.
Like the time, on Charlie Bond's bike, I road into Hell.
Maybe not real Hell, but the top of it oozed damnation.
Comin back from Zurschmeide's grocery,
Ridin nit-picky Charlies's black streamlined 10 Speed,
And bein ignorant of fancy handbrake ingenuity,
Left me vulnerable for about any disaster.
One was fast approaching as I daydreamed,
Coastin along drinkin my Coca-Cola, freestyle.
With my head tilted back, on my last swig,
I got a glimpse of my ultimate doomed destination.
I was headin, at an angle, leadin to sewer--open sewer!
I have no idea where that bottle is, to this day.
But my hands were back on the handlebars,
And my feet were back pedalin as hard as I could!
Backpedalin is Not what I had in mind,
Nor was it an idea of which I was aware!
There were no breaks on this fancy-pants bike!!
It's just a bonafide freak of nature--hand breaks!
Tryin to explain this to Momma was not as difficult
As pulling Charlie's bike out of that rotten sewer.
And Charlie, he's not the kind who takes filth lightly.
Soon "High Noon" would play out on McDonald Avenue;
I, with a soiled 10 Speed, and Charlie, with his wrath!
Tears were shed that day, plenty of 'em.
Mostly Charlie's. And I got real wet scrubbin
Myself and that 10 Speed Devil with bleach and hose water.
All this convoluted disturbance ,for a nickel coke
and a few peanuts, to drop down inside the bottle.
I just don't see the effort in eatin beyond biscuits and gravy!
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 97 times
Written on 2016-09-29 at 02:41
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