The closest I ever came to hitting a man

It was at the San Antonio rodeo,
and this ancient, stumbling fool
of a fellow was trying on chivalry
to impress his damsel in distress,
in his overeagerness for a nightcap,
he flung the door of his pickup into
the fender of my newly painted
fire engine red, because my high school
sweetheart thought red was too bold,
and I wanted her to know it was she,
who was too brazen, not my beloved
1956 Chevrolet pickup truck.

In that moment, I quelled my rage,
a muse could have sung in me as she
did through Homer of Agamemnon's
wrongs and Achille's wrath, but instead,
I channeled Arthur and his round table,
I gently beckoned for the gentleman
to move along, but that blemish
remains a red blemish  burned
into the green iris of the apple of my eye.


Popular Posts