(shawn) BEAUVILLE

beauvillescapes

on tour- out on the towns- left for invoking
old smells of someone you once loved, or love
still, or never had the chance to really love
in the way you imagined real love
to feel- a highway collision you passed

down the same handle- you stir- a firm grip
upon a mystic country ladle that
brews the salt grime gumbo magic of life
in a giant cast iron pot with a fire
underneath that smokes out demons for dinner

you kick- away clutter on the table- a gnawing sound
(a 1914 Indian V-twin electric start, you make your way)
calling hungry gods in with debut whispers of a sinner
(and you are better when you are not just spinning your wheels)

I hum your asphalt chorus- when you move across
small kitchens to span living rooms, life spans
waft, I write about you with Eternity over my shoulder
you shake the hands of every clock, and I am watching
you decipher everything from neon signs on the wall
and name every colour before you blackout on fire escapes
as you climb small bars to the top
to find a place of articulation, all with
a name you made up, or are making up
still, a different answer every time you are asked
-where did it come from?

a crack in the sidewalk the whole world grew out of
(a 1968 Les Paul custom electric, you break your way)
supplanting cities, America under your fingernails
(and you are better when you are stringing me along)

in the growing- body of a nation- globally adolescent
for a bite, let mortal tongues awake
I can hear you sing this country
in a blind taste test to win a future
I could convince you to have, or can convince you
still, that our human fruits are the salt of the earth
I said to you- We are going places

but there are no winners for solving life at all
it’s there to seep into our limbs, a secret ingredient
a fricassee over broken bread or a holy whine
life! every name we made up in the book
-it doesn’t matter which you heard!
no one has the answer for the chew
Life!- where did it come from?
Some place old. Some place new.
You said to me- Places are never the same.

Copyright © 2015 · Elizabeth Ganot · All Rights Reserved ·

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