Damon Hubbs

Hole

The day I got drunk 
down in Jupiter 
with Tiger 
and Charles, we got into 
6 car crashes 
but the 3rd
didn’t count 
because it was one of those 
micro Italian cars
that look more like 
chrome footwear 
than something that can cause 
a high speed pile up.
The vikes 
are good,
the wheels and whites, 
percopop, tabs, dro, 
fluff, Apache, everything 
like a fire engine 
blaring 
through the 
cosmos 
Toot, TOOT
     TOOTSKI

The day I got drunk 
down in Jupiter 
with Tiger 
and Charles, some girl 
from the Cheetah Palm Club 
accused Tiger of rape,
said his cock looked 
like an armadillo 
or was it a hedgehog
I can’t remember… 
We threw cash 
at her 
gold 
mother of pearl
said see ya next week
the night falling 
now
like a putt 
that breaks both 
ways
South Ocean Blvd
firecracker palm trees
blowing rocks
I’m standing on the lips 
of a waterfront mansion
eating the pinkest sunset 
I’ve ever seen
white clawed
gin tight
betting on Jai alai
talking to a guy who smuggles 
alligators in golf bags
talking to a guy who loves cattle queens
dreams in rubber, 
Thai, Puerto Rican 
talking to Tarzan of the Loxahatchee
he has a competitive nut
a Tom Ford suit
a tie as slick 
as an eel

Charles is chatting up
a calendar Pin-Up,
he has a tongue like 
a flophouse
—fame rabies
more loot than Mel Fisher, 
he beat up 
twenty bluebirds
a black sparrow 
and a clerk 
at Fast Buck Freddie’s
that weekend 
in Key West,
then wrote 
a poem 
about a young 
lion 
that many say 
is his most 
vulnerable 
yet

Tiger has rehearsed 
his death
in many crashes,
slicing a limo 
packed with sugar mommas, 
hooking a Kenworth 
heavy-duty 
class 8 truck 
carrying a load 
of Coors 
across state line,
shanking a Subaru
of Hooters girls 
en route 
to the Magic City Casino
the male G-spot
revealed 
to be 
on the frenular delta
on the underside 
of the penis
where the head 
meets 
the shaft  
yeah, baby
that’s 
science
mashed potatoes 
get in the hole.