Charles P. Ries, Poetry by.........Charles P. Ries (Poet).....
Sitting on the porch outside my walk up with Elaine
watching the Friday night action on
Southside’s so humid the air weeps.
Me and Elaine are weeping too.
Silent tears of solidarity.
She’s so full of prozac she can’t sleep and
I’m so drunk I can’t think straight.
Her depression and my beer free our tears
from the jail we carry in our hearts.
Neighbors and strangers pass by in the water vapor.
Walking in twos and fours. Driving by in souped up
cars and wrecks. Skinny, greased up gang bangers
with pants so big they sweep the street and girl friends
in dresses so tight they burn my eyes.
I can smell Miguel’s Taco Stand. Hear the cool
Mexican music he plays. Sometimes I wish Elaine
were Mexican. Hot, sweet and the ruler of my passion,
but she’s from
you drink to feel and dance and cry.
Sailing, drifting down
street shufflers and senioritas. Off to their somewhere.
I contemplate how empty my can of beer is and
how long can I live with a woman who cries all day.
Mondays are better. I sober up and lay lines for the
Gas Company. Good clean work. Work that gives me
time to think about moving to that little town in central
Elaine and three kids nailed my ass to this porch.
WHY I GAVE UP WRITING
AND JOINED THE CIRCUS
I left it all; the paper and pens, publishers
and agents who could not love my inner
fantasy and joined the circus.
The make-up, big nose and fancy pants
helped me overcome my feelings of
obscurity. I created an identity grander
than my literary art. I now have something
worth writing about.
I married the fat lady, she gave birth to
a midget; I learned to swallow swords,
made friends with a contortionist who
told me to turn my pens into pretzels,
and live like a real man.
Elaine took me to her German psychic,
as expected, she saw everything.
Our bad days and our glories.
The history of the times and species;
we have been together
Realizing how long I have been with Elaine
made me feel tired – I didn’t realize we’d been
working things out for over 400 years.
That’s a long time to accommodate a sentient being,
I don’t care what form I was in; me as:
Her hair stylist
Gerta saw it all against her inner astral cineplex.
I didn’t know I was once a charming pistol packing pescalero
a handsome Mexican bandit who charmed Elaine
(in an earlier even more succulent form)
to indulge my desires.
Irresistible under a vast pecan tree.
My sombrero tossed casually to the side
The Milky Way strung over our heads.
I pick the flower she willingly offers me.
We melt into the warm night – two sentient beings
as happy as two sentient beings could ever be.
She, the sheriff’s daughter
virgin, sixteen, flawless
filled with secret flames
Me, hanging from a pecan tree
limp, twitching, forlorn
looking a bit bewildered
My sombrero tossed hurriedly to the side
Too many lives to hold in one small boat.
Yet on we sail, east to paradise
fighting our way toward enlightenment,
the only exit strategy
for two weary souls.
You will love me forever, until you became
bored with predictability and leave me
for a man who plays board games and
grows the best pot you ever smoked
After being beaten
my belief in mother love falters
only eleven years old
and exhausted by her love
I simply forgive
Even animals must flee when frightened
Falling out of mind
they are orphans
Mysteries of mind leaving me silent
as I await further direction
WHERE I’M FROM
Corn fields line the lake shore
Corner bars, cheddars lament, cheese wiz
Pig fat, french fried, double dipped, deep fried
Just about anything editable
Charles P. Ries lives in