The below poem is Ben's, which I by accident deleted trying to remove a long hr line that knocked the links out of kilter

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Here is an old one of mine to maybe get some verbs shakin' around here.


CUTTING UP THE ROAD KILL

I was by the sink
working the big cuts
off a front shoulder
with my Buck Knife

Ed was trimming
the rough stuff
off the big cuts
& trying to keep
his kids
from wrecking the house

Benny was at the table
slicing steaks
a quarter-inch thick
perfect for jerky

Warren was holding forth
with a beer
in one hand
and a joint in the other

Steve came wandering in
and announced,
"Hey Benny,
there's some old guy
out front.
Wants to talk to you."

Benny looks up, blood
to the elbows
and says
"Invite him in."

Turns out to be the guy
who owns this old house
in the canyon.
First lived here with his bride
35 years ago. He is woods
boss for a local lumber company.
His true believing wife
drags him to church every Sunday.

Though he hasn't hunted
in twenty years
he knows damn well that
April ain't deer season.
But he saunters into his
old kitchen, looks around
and grins.

Benny looked up and said,
"Road Kill, Kenny, we couldn't
let it go to waste.
Besides, this sumbitch
cost me a headlight."

Kenny's grin broadens.
"Boys, that ain't the first
old doe that's been
cut up on that
kitchen table. Save
me some jerky."

And he was down the road
while we just kept cuttin'
on that fresh road kill,
horning down the beer
& smokin'.
// posted by Ben L. Hiatt @ 9:49 AM

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That's got the poem back anyway.