By nine, trucks old and new
line the street, spilling into the yard.
Jim Beam and George Dickel
lubricate the chord progression.  
Drinks go down, volume goes up.
I’ll be reading in the backroom
as Pap raises a glass to Hank Sr.
When the last burning drop of homage
trickles down his chin,
he gyrates across the floor,
flat-top in hand, looking for Jim.
Some other picker takes his spot
by the fireplace and bellows
about a cheatin’ heart.  
One Saturday, I rescue Huck Finn
from under the pale, bearded face
of a picker who stumbles into my room,
collapsing across the bed.
His dreams of Ryman Auditorium
go without interruption.
I slip to the floor,
settling down on the raft.
A slow, steady current carries
us downstream to another shaded
swimming hole.


© 2011 C.T. Bailey

I TORE UP YOUR SMILE
IN THE FRAME BY THE BED
TORE UP THE LOVE LETTERS
THAT I READ AND RE-READ
JOINED THE FUN AT A BAR
WHERE THEY POUR A GOOD BLEND
BUT YOUR SWEET MEMORY
JUST TORE ME UP AGAIN

CHORUS
I LAY WIDE AWAKE
COUNTING TEN THOUSAND SHEEP
CUZ IF I CLOSED MY EYES
YOU'D WALK IN MY SLEEP
I POUR DANIELS AND DICKEL
BUT MY SOLDIERS CAN'T WIN
YOUR SWEET MEMORY
JUST TEARS ME UP AGAIN

MY PSYCHIATRIST TOLD ME
SON, WHEN YOU'RE ALL THIS BENT
CALL UP AN OLD GIRLFRIEND
WITH A HEAVENLY SCENT
WELL, HER LIPS DID HER DAMNDEST
TO HELP AN OLD FRIEND
BUT YOUR SWEET MEMORY
JUST TORE ME UP AGAIN

CHORUS

                          Bridge:  I emptied your closet
                          But you still made your mark
                          Cause your ghost won't be leaving
                          Till you tear out my heart.....


CHORUS

forty ounce of miller happiness
the champagne of suicide
cut it back
smoke a pack of camels
smoke another
buy another
only fifteen bucks,
**** it right?
7-11 buffalo chicken rollers
to soak up the chemotherapy
track marks from the lighter burns from the space needle injections
smoke a **** pack
then another
then another
and re-up on GB's until the room starts to carousel
now onto the ****** fratboy lime-a-rita's
**** the 12'er
then it's hard stuff
like george dickel, cracken, and Jameson
still able to count the toes on your feet through your shoes
then add another witches brew to the cauldron
go out armed with three good friends and a knife
pavement pavement pavement
ladies
strangers
strange women
conversation
the most addictive drug of them all
take the shotgun in the mouth
and feel everything pop black
wake up next to a faceless face
send her home
go to work
write a poem
do it all again

The Northern Light shone down
through the Dancing Pines.
Illuminating the Red Stag,
as it walked through Salt Creek.

Jim Beam and Ezra Brooks,
were headed to the Caribou Crossing.
To hunt for meat, for the freezer
and stock it for the long winter.

Under the Midnight Moon,
Forty Creek streamed over a waterfall.
Creating a Canadian Mist, that ringed
Evan Williams head like a Crown Royal.

George Dickel and Jack Daniels
hunted Wild Turkey, with a single barrel
shotgun, alongside the Pendleton river.
The Makers Mark, reflected sunlight on the stock.

Johnny Walker went to see
Basil Hayden, to talk about finances
and to see if he could cure
his case of the blues.