We were told the bubbles should look
like little pebbles you could pour
clean into your hand.
“Go on, shake it,”
said Peanut, junk dealer, mechanic, and feral cat wrangler by day,
shiner by night.
“Shake 'er up and pour some
in the cap.”
We shook our samples, twisted off the caps
And they were like little pebbles squeeze-rising
atop a float of clear liquid, rolling over each other,
fighting their way to the surface.
“Now,” he said, dropping his voice
to a firm, reverential whisper, “that there, boys,
is good shit.”
It hit us like a vow,
and then became one,
and we each bought one of the re-used
plastic Mountain Dew bottles for a couple of bucks
and took them back home
and drank them slowly that night,
feeling the good, tippling shit roll down the lengths
of our throats and simmer in our guts,
so that each passing sip became a deeper nucleus of lush darkness,
whetting some soft, citified manner we could never lay claim to
nor hope to abandon in another dark, balmy night years later
when Peanut’s loose-limbed, drunken body plunged
end-over-end from the water tower,
reclaimed by the backwoods of northern Florida.
from The Rightful Pivot
released February 7, 2015
Recorded and Mixed By Desmond Shea and Joe Goldring May/June 2014
at Coast Recorders S.F.
Mastered by Doug Henderson at micro-moose Berlin
all rights reserved
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