Monday, December 19, 2011

black leather gloves

thick and tight,
tense and tough,
jeans over work boots,
any night is enough,
dim bulbs in rusty sockets,
black leather gloves in back pockets,
beers go down,
hockey on the screen,
it gets rough,
then it gets mean,
spinning minds and cold stares,
girlfriends start to fuss and pout,
takes only a second to get the gloves out,
nowhere to go,
amidst the trucks and cars,
red blood on white snow,
under a black sky and white stars.

(the tip of my hat to my buddies from small towns)


Square Corner said...

Turn that poem into a national anthem! Nice to see you back.

Fisheye Lens said...

Ahhh, this piece brings me back to a night long ago at the King George Tavern on Main Street when Cousin, Snakey, and I got into a bar clearing brawl after a lively night of Euchre dealt out on tables laminated by decades of swilled and spilled Labatt Blue and varnished in the vapour of a thousand and one Du Maurier Extra Lights.

Where I come from, the Canadian Dream is attainable any night of the week.

Great to see it memorialized in this homage to small town nights.
! Well done