steel toed boots

Beer heels clattering.
halyards ticking.
Scott Shaws dead.
He took his lickin
I saw Danny at the ticket window
of the Steamship Authority,
He said, "Word is, Scott Shaw's dead.
showed up murdered in San Diego."
"You sure hes dead?" I said.
"yeah he's dead, two years ago."

Scott used to say,
"you're the one. you're the one. you're the one."
The last time Scott drove me to the ferry
I was trying to decide
if I should jump out or not.
No opportunity in sight.
We weren't hitting the lights right.
Green. green. green.

Beer heels clattering
down the side yard walk
onto the back porch
Swaying at the sliding glass door.

The big dig site had been making me uneasy.
Ironworkers.
But he was never here.
He was two years dead in San Diego.

© 2000-2004 by Bud Scrape