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A Country Minute

by Victor Mendez 3 years ago in surreal poetry
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Aged bones rattle in the wind,

Shirt dancing through the open window,

And the sun slowly heading into night,

While a tell is written on the shadow 'bout to fall.

Mottled, taught fist grips the wheel when..

Out of the silence I hear her on the radio reaching out to wrap her voice around my little bubble of alone..

Drips all her honeysuckle sweetness with a twinge of husky regret on the inside of my car..

Perfect for a conversation over whiskey,

Making me wish I still drank..almost..is what I'm thinkin'..

Then she opens the pearly gates of heaven to give a taste..

Of wonder! and I hear the sound of an open stretch of a lonely backroad running along the spine of a steel guitar that isn't there but I hear it in her voice..

All 'o' sudden the breeze through my windows starts acting all lazy..like it too wants to savor what it can't see but taste through the car speakers..

We listen to the fiddle following behind you straining to keep up to a force of nature it acts like it only just met..

Like it wants to duet,

But it just can't do it!

The play of your words ride the strings and I can see you in my mind two-steppin', toe tappin' on each taut line..and

you flow down the neck to nape of guitar like you're slidng slow motion, head first..

And I think to myself..

How I wish country sounded like you, like way back when..

I watch the braided barbed wire fence tethered to their wooden posts going by..

A reel to reel on the fly..

I am old school,

just an old fool..

Even the fence in my mind is from my past but it's all good!

"Cuz I'm hearing her voice lament what was for what is..ululates in sorrow..yet,

It gives me joy..as I feel all the in betweens..

I forget everything,

But the red of the vermillion sky as the sun kisses the puffy white clouds goodnight as it settles for the night..and the green and yellow grasses of the flatlands waving bye..and,

I and my car roll along our way..and,

The sound of honeysuckle sweetness clinging to the open window lagging behind like the loose end of a long-flowing scarf..

Inviting you to grab hold and tug at it to see where it leads but I turn to beckon you..

'Come with me!'

'And we will dance like tonight is all!'

'Tomorrow is never!'

'We are only now!'


surreal poetry

About the author

Victor Mendez

Born in 1958.There's a lot of road beneath these feet.Worn out pairs upon pairs of shoes.Been a ranch kid,a city kid,a Marine,a dad, a grandfather now,an avid reader and just recently began writing poetry in 2015 just to vent.

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