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Recklessness
In memory of Marshall Schick
The laughter and sounds of two cycle engines
is what I remember most. Even in winter
you played with the Kawasaki, saucer and rope.On frozen Duck Creek five bodies
would stack upon a flyer as your laughter
ricocheted off the elms that lined its banks.
As you shifted gears and roared, gaining speed,
your maneuvers would force bodies to peel
off the stack, until at last only one remained.
Pleasures of others gave you the most reward,
I remember. And when I learned that your tire did not obey
at three a.m., I could only think you are not alone.
- Tabasco
Vinegar, red pepper and salt,
conceived and concocted with care,
bring delight to the tongue
when properly mingled
with worchestershire, celery and juice.Mary befriended me when she was a virgin,
taught me the phrase: 'hair of the dog....'
Not until the morning after
did the adage appear as a revelation
when the leftover lager mixed itself with tabasco.The addiction grew like a weed and teased
me in spirits; found itself in sauces,
casseroles and fried entrees.
The tiny bottles wouldn't last three days;
twelve pack cases were stored in the pantry.The habit persisted until the day
Mary would not bleed
when the taste for vinegar, red pepper and salt
was replaced by sweet acidophilus milk.
- An Ode to St. Pat
I make it a point to say my mother
Is full-blooded Irish; gives me a right,
I conclude, to drink all I want and curseWith God's okay. As a half-Irishman,
I have a tendency to admire women
With full breasts and the wherewithalTo say whatever is on their minds--
All the while knowing I can read
Their minds like a leprechaun.Of course my magic is limited within
My own linen, an all too familiar feeling
That is seeded by love and mistakenFor thoughts that are all too common.
Poems by J. Matthew Waters
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- Tabasco