Zoomersmagazine.com once again presents a thrilling poem by our in-house verse artist, Rambling Billy.

It was spring 1977
The trailer was cluttered
The ceiling low and claustrophobic
Bending even lower over the bed
The sock was brown, knee-high and dirty
She swooped it from the floor
The candle licked the bottom of the spoon
It spit as if used against its will
But its job was done
The spoon shined with emptiness
The pointed destroyer loaded
Between her teeth to meet her lover
Like some impassioned bullfighter
She tightened the sock
The endless search for a good vein
The sock clenched between teeth
The stab the miss the stab
The stab that seemed to hurt only me
The sweat
My sweat
The need to leave
Too faint to move
Too faint to stand
So I endured
She celebrated her success with a hard-boiled egg
Talked, smiled and laughed
Yellow and white on her teeth
As numb as her soul

It was fall 1977
In a tack room in Fresno
My memory, maybe it's my imagination
Says it smelled of washed leather, feed
And just a little liniment
A poker game
Quarters and dollars
Two old guys
Two young guys
A little table probably a TV tray
Just big enough for cards quarters and dollars
Seats were of five gallon buckets and sacks of grain
It was a friendly game
Nobody lost
Nobody won
Enter the Placer county cowboy
Only half a thumb on one hand
Lost it between a saddle horn and a calf on a rope
At least that's what he told me in Pomona
The Los Angles County Fair
He's Naked to the waist
Glistening with sweat in the evening heat
Very white but lean and athletic
Blood vessels protruding and pounding atop the sinew
One of the old guys spoke up and said;
You look like you been doing some serious fucking
He said she's still over there if you guys want some
Now, I don't remember how I knew who she was
But I knew, and so do you
If she had been my sister it would have been worse
But grief is grief
And it's best alone

I would like to transgress now
Back to the spring 1977
For some foreplay and a quote
Mostly for the quote
There were three of us
The jockey, Tommy and me
A late night convenience store
The jockey went in for beer
Tommy and I went for a piss

I was just shaking it off when
The voice from the spotlight said
What the hell you think you doing boy
Taking a piss I replied
With everything dry and zipped
Where in the hell you from boy
Well, to make a long story short
Tommy and I got hand cuffed and arrested
Indecent exposure don't you know
But the jail house was close by
Very efficient
Photos and prints took twenty minutes
The jockey had the beer, followed us in
And we all left together
And had a really good time

The judge, was confused
Was it big like a banana
Was it skinny like a pencil
Case dismissed
The District Attorney had horses
I've got this really cool win photo of my baby Jet
Best friend I've had
Beating the district attorney by a length and a half
That's my baby, "Jet"

All foreplay and no quote
Tommy, me and the jockey
Under the breezeway of the motel
Encounter the jockeys wife
Full knowledge of his drug addiction
His ongoing affair with the trailer girl
Completely full with dignity

With her long black hair
And Indian skin, beautiful skin
Two kids in tow
She said, "before the drugs he was good at a lot of things''.