by Dancing Bear
"Stumbling into Scotty's" -- "Life Spent Traveling" -- "Another for the Young Woman at the Front Desk
Dancing Bear notes: I am a Native American who has lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for 20 years. I practice Shotokan Karate and compete in local tournaments. I also am an active participant in local poetry groups and events, and am the Senior Editor of Toth Press.
Stumbling Into Scotty's Looking to Shoot Arrows
on the juke box, Ministry
(not the whimpy disco stuff)
bluesilver
smoke clouds
five lanes -three open
Old Peculiar in stock
and
me in arrow heaven
I assemble my set
with marksman's care and respect
players -- good players -- are watching me
to see how I treat my darts
I throw threes, ones and fives
so the gallery knows I know
what I
am doing -
wannabes and marks will think I'm easy
(and it will
cost them)
Challengers come (they always do)
"diddle for the middle"
I lose it so he calls Cricket
throwing his two fast twenties
and a
five
at the line bending my knees a bit
staring at the board
still hearing the gritty grumbly
the three packs five pints a day
voice of the shark/master who taught me
As with every master I learned
from
I honor their attempt to tutor me
tonight, the master would be
proud
In this moment, I am everything
pin-point on the board, dart,
spinning flight,
American Spirit cig tucked behind my ear,
my steady
guide-finger, molecules of smoke,
of oxygen, smirking smug know-it-all
challenger,
juke box blaring out psalms 69 -- "praise Jesus",
Billy Barkeep's silvering hair,
a pint of Guiness still settling
the perfect flight released from my finger
single twenty, dead center,
a sloppy one for drama
-- don't want to look too good,
triple
twenty for clean up
my opponent concentrates on the sloppy one
making
my triple look lucky
I play a couple steps ahead of him
play him
close, play him tight
shut him out of each number
even bulls are just
much of the same
Then he wants to partner up
go after the others,
being how
he and I are so evenly close and all
-- smart lad
We
win our way through 501
301 and more Cricket
Tonight I drink for free
tonight we are closers
all 2am lost
in Friday morning fog
not a
real winner amongst us
Life Spent Traveling
Elementary traveler
touched by wind
Eternal, eternal tourist
through the old stones of cities
milestones of old greed
and exploitation
A wanderer of lands
oceans rivers and the old roads
adept in the vagabond ways
wrinkled smile
ever present sparkle of wise eyes
With walking stick and bag
the writer is motion, the writer is motion
fluidity and flow
following road signs and indicators
only his ilk may read
Star-light sleeper
in fair summer breezes
a bundled huddled dreamer in doorways
when winter winds howl
Autumn and Spring, the seasons,
the seasons of discretion
A keeper of folk tales and lore
the listener of local stories
teller of tales
time weary and worn
an old frame silhouette against setting sun
looks for a smooth patch to
bed
Rest finally arrives
under exquisite stars
bones already forgotten
settling to soil -- bed of flowers
