Sipping a pale stale brew
Friday night at the bar nothing better to do
Yanks versus Mets on the giant flat screen t.v.
A million misfortunes one of them me
Lost in the bottom of the third
A large, large, large lady came by without a word
Easily twice my size
Sad, sad, sad, sick puppy eyes
Empty I stared
She gritted her gold teeth and glared
“Mind if I take a seat”
“Go ahead” I croaked in silent defeat
“I got five tattoos”
I heard her proclaim
“I’ll show them to you’s”
“Roxanne is my name”
She tugged up the sleeve on her left arm
In blurred faded green script “Momma” it read
Roxanne blinked as if under charm
“Got that in ninety five”
“Momma was still alive”
“Now she’s dead”
Solemn silence as fell a tear
The bar erupted in a cheer
A Yankee hit a grand slam
I missed it so I silently cursed ‘damn’
The lady lifted her rhino like leg to the chair
By her ankle another brand to share
Red letters bright and bold, “Leroy”
Roxanne whispered “He was such a joy”
I took a big gulp of beer as inwardly I did groan
Three more tattoos, then she’ll leave me alone?
The buxom unbuttoned two buttons of her shirt
Wiggling and waggling as if to flirt
Upon her massive breast
“Sweet Pea May In Peace You Forever Rest”
Sniffling she said, “My baby, my flesh and blood and more”
“She died and walked on through heaven’s door”
My face wrinkled up red, I was mad
Meekly I prayed that Roxanne interpreted I was sad
She lifted her blouse and lowered her skirt
Thoughts of her undressing really hurt
There almost a foot long
Was Christ hanging on the crucifix
Everything about it was wrong
It was awful I nearly vomited as if sick
For the dead Lord had the silliest of grins
I read the words underneath
In complete disbelief
“The devil always wins”
Roxanne entered uncomfortably near
My heart raced and paced in fear
She whispered so only I could hear
“The last one” she spoke so soft
“I can only show you if I can take it all off!!”
“Oh My God!!!” I yelled, “A triple play”
Roxanne’s head for a moment turned away
Quicker than quick I was out the door
I won’t go drinking Friday nights no more
John Kaniecki is a Christian of
over thirty years and is presently a full-time caregiver for his wife Sylvia.
John served eight years as a voluntary missionary to the inner city of Newark,
New Jersey with the Church of Christ at Chancellor Avenue. John is a published
writer and poet who has a very diversified collection of literary art,
including his personal story “More Than The Madness”. John hopes to become a
professional writer to support himself and his family as well as to bless
others. To learn more about the author please explore his web page. https://johnkaniecki.weebly.com
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Funny!
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