comeback sauce

comeback sauce (written in a room at the Alluvian)

every year they drill and drill at the citadel,

but they know the star of the west is lost to history.

southern boys choke on comfort and comeback sauce,

chasing tailgates in rotating seasons of glory.

dripping cotton in the delta

the tallahatchie and yalobusha still flow into the yazoo

winding through miles and miles of decline,

farms of no reliable food source one chain break away,

many on mind altering new pharm drugs, morals on decline.

when the velvet glove comes off that iron fist of tyranny

they will wake with no place to run. cha cha throw it on everything

old bricks cobbled together in slow rhythms,

heels with that certain wrap around porch wisdom,

speak in ancestor tongues “tall people die sooner”,

someone used to say. selectively

the professor threw it on the table,

“females should be required to register for the draft”.

rape as a weapon works both ways.

a bullet cost less than a dollar

but women of texas would trade dildos

gunning for tender. he pours another round

of sweet bourbons and french seventy fives.

lapping luxuries in spas of full service

easy speak comes with the territory.

the south of something is going to do it again

it’s written on judgemental maps. cha cha throw it on everything,

hall of fame repertoire, the blind pigskin of redux.

commas and syntax leave lyons in black and white.

tigers and bears

sing do you know the way back to san jose.

it is important to know when to get out of the city

and other lessons learned the hard way.

the next day steams ahead waiting to explode

in the drainage basin,

america is a powder keg!

the river on pottery breaks

near merigold and sunflower

on a mission of sloop to sumter all over again,

lost as the aging pecan drupes of hushpuckena,

slather on that comeback sauce and cha cha on everything.