CAUGHT
a lift from cap wheeler
in his flatbed ford at
tucker’s corners & when
I slid across the worn
army blanket covering
the split seat i pulled
a pint of calvert out
of my coat & shoved it
into his fist after a
couple chugs he tossed
it back then took a
sheathed hunting knife
w/a notched bone grip
from his glove compart
ment & dropped it into
my lap what’s this for
i asked while he lit
the last inch of a
cheap cigar I wore it
down in mexico looking
for that gold i never
found i could tell you
it’s for that time yr
dad pulled me out of
that deep place in the
creek but shit lets
just say it’s for the
drink
Poem taken from Planet Detroit, Spring 1985, edited by Kurt Nimmo.