• Grant Handgis ~ Author/Poet

People Make Strange Bedfellows

People make strange bedfellows


Leroy Butler

he was the one

who camps on lady Rosebud's

bed, for the cold winter

months, dealing out sex

for love, and demanding fidelity

in lieu of services rendered

when there is service, whether

in part or on the agenda

of daily failures, positively attributed

to forces outside his control, and vision

which for the time being is impregnated

with scotch, equalizing the unsteady hands

binding him to domestic trivia

and stoking the Franklin with pine knots

while fancying the soft thighs

which would comfort him

and the fat breast in the offing


Inclined to miss even the most obvious

joke, Joy could always manage a laugh

imitating the choler of any moment,

a minor talent, which kept her abreast

of the transitional scene she entertained,

and drained three more fingers

of Walker Red, that ally of spirits

putting the life in her eyes each morning

when the hot day chased her from my bed

prompting the continual wailing, over

enigmas, and boredom, which could reach

epidemic proportions, until the bottle was dry

when the juices would begin to flow

lubricating her main talent, and

completing the cycle again

like all the other days since her arrival

in town, so where the hell was 'ol Leroy

that day at the park, where she was hanging out

Copyright 1979-2011


g. Michael Handgis Photography


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