back from the quest!
<polvie zooms up the red earth drive in "el viejo". the weary old truck slides to a stop dragging its left hind leg and kicking up a hound shaped cloud of maroon dust in front of the porch... IRKING THE polite, never complaining HELL out of miss dealer.>
<polvie grabs a winkled paper bag off the seat, swings open the door while an unusually minuscule number of unused chill pills roll out of the cab onto the ground. they break... generating a semi-small golden pool of foam.>
<rev. edwards frowns down from his porch perch as polvs leaps out, landing crooked on an empty 24 oz. can of foster's lager. he stumbles, catches his elf with a couple quick spastic moves, but drops the bag containing the gift, in the crimson dirt. the omnipresent, invisible lurqing dude picks it up before polvie can even count the number of porchies watching.>
<"GIMME! it's a surprise," polvo squeals as he grabs the bag outta lurqer's hands before he can peek in. "ANYBODY GOT A HAMMER AND A NAIL?" he hollers as he hurdles up on the porch.>
<polvie grabs king volvo's throne by the cape and drags it over in front of the steps. pulling off his beer stained boots, elp climbs carefully up on the throne.>
<"here's a nail," trills jill. "i broke it off jus' fer you polvie." (wink, wink, eyelash bat)>
<"i got a hammer," chimes in mary 'poet' travers in harmonious perfection.>
<"thanks indigo options girls. ye shall ever be a significant parta this ceremony.">
<uncle frank, uncle west and jimtankerous start lookin' at each other outta the sides of their eyes and begin slinkin' off like redneck muthers tend to do when they think they're about to be a part of somethin' that they don't want no part of.>
<povlster pounds jill's nail into the fascia over the entrance to the porch and hangs the sign with the wrinkled bag still covering it. "V-MAN... PLAY THE ANTHEM!" polvs tolls bells in his inimitable, hunchback, hemming-way... removing his 'world's best dad' ballcap, placing it over his heart.>
<volt slides the shiny disc into the cup holder on his PC, puts the cursor (coonaz) on track 4 and clicks twice fast. the sweet, sweet sounds of the porch anthem begin to waft across the porch like grease dripping out of a cheese enchilada running down yer chin...
This old porch is like a big old red and white Hereford bull
Standing under a mesquite tree
Out in Agua Dulce
And he just keeps on playing hide and seek
With that hot August sun
Just a-sweatin' and a-pantin'
Cause his work is never done
And this old porch is like a steaming, greasy plate of enchiladas
With lots of cheese and onions
And a guacamole salad
And you can get'em down at the LaSalle Hotel
In old downtown
With iced tea and a waitress
And she will smile every time
And this old porch is the Palace walk-in
On the main street of Texas
That's never seen the day
Of G and R and Xs
With that '62 poster
That's almost faded down
And a screen without a picture
Since Giant came to town
And this old porch is like a weathered, gray-haired
Seventy years of Texas
Who's doing all he can
Not to give in to the city
And he always takes the rent late
So long as I run his cattle
And he picks me up at dinnertime
And I listen to him rattle
He says the Brazos still runs muddy
Just like she's run all along
And there ain't never been no cane to grind
The cotton's all but gone
And you know this brand new Chevrolet
Hell it was something back in '60
But now there won't nobody listen to him
'Cause they all think he's crazy
And this old porch is just a long time
Of waiting and forgetting
And remembering the coming back
And not crying about the leaving
And remembering the falling down
And the laughter of the curse of luck
From all of those passerbys
Who said we'd never get back up
This old porch is just a long time
Of waiting and forgetting
And remembering the coming back
And not crying about the leaving
And remembering the falling down
And the laughter of the curse of luck
From all of those sons-of-bitches
bitches
bitches
bitches
bitches
bitches
bitches
bitches
bitches>
<the CD player gets stuck on a drop of '94 merlot that fun loving 'poet' spilled saturday night...>
<meanwhile, ed forrest is ripping off the wrinkled bag to expose the new porch sign polvie has brought from his recent epigram safari.>
<downsouth looks up in awe and reads... "CARPE MA¥ANA?... what the HELL does THAT mean?... is that like in spanish or something?">
<Ch‚, the latin guerilla, pipes in rightintime with a freakin' truckload of unused but appropriately 'laid back' romantic feelings... "NO, DUDE... it's a LATIN-american phrase. it means... SEIZE TOMORROW!"> |
