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 | The Ghosts of Jim Beam, Hank Williams and Me Gerrett Gastal |
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Late one night a VCR flashed 12:00 [blink] 12:00 [blink] 12:00 [it's all subliminal] I was sitting, drinking, thinking, listening to an ancient relic of a record player (funny that, isn't it?) When a man "Dressed like 1950, half-drunk and hollow-eyed" walked through my door (it amazes me to say I'm being literal) He took a seat had a drink and sang me a song or two (smiling at me like we were old friends) and like this we sat said ne'er a word but sang of men with broken hearts and lost highways (for maybe an hour or four) Then someone tapped my shoulder, rather softly and I turned rather slowly (and in turning saw that drunken way the world slides by) A figure of a man bearded majestically in a black broadcloth suit (a cowboy on a sunday afternoon) He says we've had enough his bottles quite empty this is not the last time you will see us (the ghosts of Jim Beam, Hank Williams, and me) [Return to Psychopoetica home page] ©The contents of this page are copyright protected. | |