There were days that even Judy had the Blues.
But there are days when all lost souls do...
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Greenhouse
This older woman likes it, he thought,
Being pawed aggressively like this,
Her back rubbing sensuously
Against the yielding plastic greenhouse wall,
her skirt clutched tightly in one hand,
Her half-seen face gaily grimacing
While she held him to her tightly in the dark.
It was better than she'd ever imagined, he imagined.
Not bad for him, either—he’d never felt better,
Though they’d just now met at the party.
Whatever was true, whatever was false,
The tall woman leaned back on the greenhouse wall
And spread her arms wide like a crucified bride
And trembled like a girl
With the younger man's face on her thighs.
rcs.
4th draft: 05/02/04
©1975 Ronald C. Southern
Posted by at 10:00 PM
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Judy Garland's Blues
Why was Judy Garland sad?
Did she have everything—but not love?
What drove Judy Garland mad,
Or do I give her too much credit?
Was she just privately unlucky, after all the public luck?
Did she have two armfuls of nothing in the worn valises
She dragged into another mansion of expenses, pills, and airs
Amid lost things never declared, forever beyond her reach?
Did she have everything—but not love?
Was she too often left behind as a child
Or was she poisoned in the vein
As by too many drinks or a rattlesnake...
Twisted by some familial demon spirit she became
That Voodoo spirit, the reel and spin, the deadly living blues,
Forever frightened—no matter her age or image or magic—
Of what to choose and what to lose, out of control to the end?
Did she, like you, like me, have everything—
But could not feel the love that others gave
Or stay as brave as needed every moment?
rcs.
Current draft: 4/12/2010
3rd draft: 04/26/05
©2004 Ronald C. Southern
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[This is a separate and different title from the blog title.]
The Creature
Ron Southern,
Chigger, Texas, USA
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