Preacher Allgood

a posse of fuckups and failures

the place was a hole
it was mean and dirty 
dark and smoky
it smelled like ancient feuds
barf and blood 
a torrid feeling of anti-social menace 
buzzed thru the stagnant haze

Tony One-ton sat at the bar and raged against everything
his ass cheeks swallowed the stool
and Pandora O’Jesus banged home the eight ball
with violence and panache
that permanent glower etched on her face  

and it felt like the walls were weeping
because the city threatened to shut us down
they wanted to put up a new fire station 

those movers and shakers
always take it out on the tired and the broken
when they catch that revitalization fever 

Old Red the bar keep 
spun his stories of wheat harvest in the thirties
and smelly Volkswagen Betty
rolled the dice against Larry the Loudmouth
and I kept the beer coolers full 
and I mopped the tobacco spit and the grime from the floor

and out in the streets
a summer full of important people and important events
flipped us off as it rolled past
because the pageant of time has no stomach 
for a posse of fuckups and failures
not even when they’re snared in one of the gates to hell