Victoria

Victoria could see her dreams
      From the streets of Butte
They appeared somewhere beyond the mountains
      Every day after her shift
At the Queen of Hearts Restaurant & Casino

She'd look up at the very same mountains
      That attracted wanderers to visit Butte
And pray to the statue, Our Lady of the Rockies
      Her deliverance soon would come

There might come a day years from now she'd dream
      When she could afford to wax poetic
About these 20 odd years
      And when she might return to visit
These mountains, this precious statue, her patron

For years she remained in conflict
      Torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay
It had become her home, after all, her companion
      Where she had settled, when, lost
She had had to find a new life two decades ago
Wher her failed marriage to that no-account bum
Almost landed her in jail back in Syracuse

It was only through a sympathtic district attorney
      And turning state's evidence that she was spared
And managed to leave all that behind her
      And drift in search of a place, an escape from the world

All over the Northwest and the Upper Plains she sought
      A place to hide, a place to rest
Finally living the forgotten life
      In Butte

Everything became thankfully routine
      Until four years ago
When from out of nowhere
      The sprout of a yearning
Germinated in her heart, in her soul

It wasn't too late, she would reason
      If she left now, she could still live another 20 years
Somewhere more cosmopolitan, more sheik
      Brighter, limitless, dripping with more hope
A move could lift this veil of sadness
      That threatened her dreams
            Darkened her schemes,
                  Deadened her streams

Ever since, she started to save her pennies
      Investigated from afar
Went to the library, subscribed to magazines
      Searched the internet
Asked customers who would come through
      On the buses from Seattle to Billings and Bismark
Who took half-hour layovers in the restaurant

Oh, she'd imagine, one day soon
      Although lately, not soon enough
No, she must show restraint, she said
      That one day soon, she'd get on that bus
Return to the world of the living

Most folks would tell her to go west
      Head over to Seattle or Portland
But her instinct told her
      That back east was where her deliverance would be found

She'd head back
      But to Chicago, New York, Washiungton, or Boston, not Syracuse
Places with upscale thinking where she could lose herself
      Be swept up in the crowd, play with new trends
Challenge herself with new ideas
      Allow herself to become involved in a local project
Give back in thanks for the blessings granted her
      By her patron, Our Lady of the Rockies

Victoria could see her dreams
      From the streets of Butte
They appeared somewhere beyond the mountains
      Every day after her shift
At the Queen of Hearts Restaurant & Casino


For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 24, 2012

Prairie Dog Play For Me

Prairie dog play for me
      Stroke my heart
Open my eyes
      Burrow deep
Unlock memories
      Suck like with a straw
The magic potion
      The marrow
            Of wandering

Like Alice in the Wonderland
      Like Frodo in Rivendell
Like Galileo at the telescope
            Open this portal
      Let me see
The other side of the stethoscope
            Inward as much as
                  Across vast vistas

Come away from this trip
            Richer
      For having listened
For having learned

Prairie dog play for me
      Stroke my heart
Open my eyes
      Burrow deep
Unlock memories
      Suck like with a straw
The magic potion
      The marrow
            Of wandering


For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 18, 2012

Stray Doggie Musta Wandered Off

Stray doggie musta wandered off
      A lone cow appeared uninterested
Oblivious to its misfortune
      Unaware there wasn't another bovine around
            For a mile at least

The fencing would keep her off the highway
      What with its trucks and buses and cars
But how would she get back to the herd

All she did was munch on the grass
      Probably stumbled upon a sweet patch
Having followed a line of tasty blades
      Like in that E.T. movie
Following pieces of candy
      Until an hour later
            Here she was

Stray doggie musta wandered off
      A lone cow appeared uninterested
Oblivious to its misfortune
      Unaware there wasn't another cow around
            For a mile at least


For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 4, 2012

Half-Harvested Field Of Blond Fiber

Half-harvested field of blond fiber
      Bleached yellow by the sun
Or just pale mustard by science
      Awaits an organizing farm vehicle
To come by and rake up the cuttings
      Batch the yield into bales
     
The cut product leaves a stubble
      Like when a kid gets a buzz cut for summer
            Nearly all the way down to scalp
And you can see how white the skin
      Has become over the winter
            Soon to be colored
By endless hours playing all day long in the sun
      During the months when the classroom
            Is the farm
Where Dad is king, Mom is queen
                  Family is everything
That and getting seed in the ground
      Feeding cattle
            Praying for good weather,
                  Rich yields,
                        A better life
And then at the right time bringing the hay to market

Half-harvested field of blond fiber
      Bleached yellow by the sun
Or just pale mustard by science
            Awaits an organizing farm vehicle
      To come by and rake up the cuttings


For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 4, 2012

He Had The Look Of A Young Old Man

He had the look of a young old man
      More so than
An old young man.

Heck he wasn't much more than 19
      But he looked every day of having been
In and out of juvenile hall for years
      Let's face it for a decade now
He had seen nothing but the inside of
      One correctional facility or another
Hadn't necessarily made him a better person
      Couldn't say if it had made him a worse person
Mostly it should have made him wiser
      To not make the same mistakes over and over agian

All that could change
      Starting here starting now you never know
It's always so hard to predict
      He was on the bus headed to Seattle
Headed to make a new life
      Pick up on another chance
            A gift that had been given him
The judge had pleaded with him to make the most of it
      Thank your lucky stars young man he said
            You have someone willing to help you
      Don't let me see you back here
            Or so help me I'll throw the book at you

All that would be decided in the days weeks months years ahead
      For now though sitting on the bus looking out the window
He had the look of a young old man
      More so than
An old young man
            Heck he wasn't much more than 19


For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 3, 2012