Waiting for Five and the Bottle
By Reinhard A. Palovcik
© 1997 Reinhard A. Palovcik
Edited by Tom Miller
Head Pounding
head pounding
head pounding
head pounding
to the beat
it's the hangover
hangover
hangover
beer
rum
wine
vodka
beat
the beat
ears ringing
pants soiled
how the fuck
did
I ever
get home
it's the beat
in my ear
the beat
how the
fuck
did I
ever
get
home
Sick as a Dog
into the bathroom
of the Lyric
unzipping
leaning over
the bowl
pissing
watching
the pure
yellow stream
merge
with the clear
chlorinated
water
a wave
of nausea
ascends
my stomach
rises
in my throat
spilling
into the bowl
overcome
with dizziness
I collapse
beside the bowl
staring up
at the empty
toilet roll dispenser
wondering
what is now
clinging
to my back
and lay there
for many minutes
until the next
drunken bum
comes in
and pisses
into the bowl
misses
and pisses
on me
and says
hey man
I'm sorry
I didn't see you
down there
and then vomits
and collapses
on top of me
and then
the next
drunken bum
comes in
unzips
and pisses
and misses
etc
etc
Bananas
I was in the grocery store
the other day
watching
this distinguished looking
gentleman in a suit
at the banana stand
he was taking apart
the bunches
and putting
sometimes two
sometimes three
bananas
in the hanging scale
he would read the scale
take one banana out
put a different one in
read the scale again
tear another one off
a new bunch
put it in
and read the scale
I wandered
through the produce section
glancing his way
hoping he wouldn't notice
that I was watching
most everyone else
seemed to ignore him
after several more attempts
at weighing and plucking
bananas from stalks
our eyes met
he then grabbed
two bananas
ones I had not yet
seen him weigh before
and headed for the checkout
a banana in each hand
got about two yards away
but came quickly back
and weighed the two bananas
meanwhile
having had enough
I went down the aisles
picking up
some veal bones
jars of pasta sauce
rum raisin ice cream
goat milk
red currant jelly
French bread
olive oil
and several
small tubs of yogurt
about twenty minutes later
out of curiosity
I once again
swung by the produce section
there he was
with three bananas
on the scale
taking one out
replacing it with another
the grocery staff
and other shoppers
ignored him
he seemed harmless
but by then
he had dismembered
about six or seven bunches
they lay there in a heap
a testament to his insanity
but maybe he wasn't mad
maybe he was working
on one of the universe's darkest
and most profound secrets
counting bananas
between one and four
examining their combined weights
calculating
computing
correlating variables
of fundamental
mathematical relationships
and none of us
had a clue
of the awesome implications
mounting
dissolving
and mounting again
or maybe
he really was bananas
Drunk Again
I was drunk
again
and ran
spitting
on the sidewalk
scraping the sleep
from my eyes
and flicking it
onto a leaf
slicing my toe
on a blade of grass
rolling on the lawn
squashing
and spreading
the dogshit
over my back
then lying
in the sun
letting it bake
into a hard
brown mass
stuffing acorns
up my nose
running
beneath birds
trying to catch
their droppings
with my hair
digging a hole
sucking earthworms
like linguine
into my gullet
squashing
the mole's ass
to my ear
to hear its tiny farts
piercing my eyes
with pine needles
sticking branches
up my ass
brushing my teeth
with sand
teasing the oyster
with my tongue
until it shit
so I could taste
the salt sweet
of its bowels
pulling the legs
off a spider
and pushing them
into the end
of my dick
Searching
the town
for another
bottle of whiskey
Tiny Black Fly
A fly, tiny, delicate, silent
with black felt wings spread
dances gracefully
through the air
I watch it
as I drink my beer
it is drawn by the aroma
dazed by the alcohol
Suddenly
it is trapped in the foam
and struggles to the side
its little legs pumping froth
With two fingers
I dip in
to snatch the poor beast
from its new found hell
But, so fragile
it collapses into a smudge
all motion stops
as the black spot spreads
Surviving this long
breeding in still rooms
with air locked between walls
eggs laid in the crevices
Each generation
never knowing the next
blind through futures
of brutal evolution
They are drawn to vats
of beer and death
brewed by beings
with superior
anguish
and sadness
and misery
Lucky Disaster
It was eleven o'clock
Thursday night at the Lyric
and the Tom Miller Show
I was there with my camera
notebook and pen
waiting for poems
I'd been drinking beer
since five o'clock that afternoon
about seven or eight pints
I couldn't remember
but it didn't show
I was happy and reserved
Things were pretty dead that night
about ten people mostly friends of Miller
I sat at the bar
drinking a Guinness
then ducked out the side with a friend
smoked a couple of bowls
and after that the show started
there was Miller
at the mike
one story and poem after another
the crowd lit
with laughter
whoops
and driving applause
In my usual style
I snapped a couple of pictures
but then the room grew dark
it wasn't the lighting
it was me
I had to do something, quickly
so I staggered out the door
for some fresh air
walked over to the Hippodrome
and sat on the steps
then, head still spinning
I lay down
and, looking up
saw a sky full of stars
the comet had long since
set over the horizon
And then the visions came
of spaceships like spiked bulbs
and giant silver snowflakes
streaming into my skull
sensory overload
filling my brain
a giant meshwork
of alien information
and then it faded
and I again saw the night
the stars
felt the steps
under my back
saw the Hippodrome
the Lyric Cafe across the court
and the Tom Miller Show
I got myself up
and headed for the door
about half way there
in my dazed state
I sensed a warm wet mass
shoot out of my ass
Oh, damn it all
I hadn't felt it coming
and now what to do
I couldn't go back inside
as risky and daring
as Miller's shows were
they weren't ready for this
I staggered to my car
got in, reclined the seat
and lay there for ten minutes
in the stench
then came the thought
what if my friends came out
to check and see
what had happened to me
the embarrassment
would be too much
I could hear them saying
the old fart drank so much
he shit his pants
I couldn't deal with that
it was worse than death
or the cops
I started my car
and headed home
carefully
after about a mile
there they were
on my tail
flashing lights
a short blast of siren
I pulled over
and got out
they came up
two of them
looked me over
"Can we see your license
and registration please?"
the tall black one said
I pulled out my wallet
the lower half was wet and stank
I handed it to them
"Please remove your license"
the short, white one said
they had kept their distance
I guess it was the smell
I handed over my license
"Please place it on the car"
they said in unison
then the tall one leaned over
and copied down the numbers
They walked back to their car
talking in whispers
then came back and said
OK, be on your way now
I picked up my license
got in my car
and drove away
realizing
the stench and stain
had saved me
they wouldn't drive around
the rest of the night
with that stink in their car
and diarrhea
soaking through
their back seat
I figured
I had been saved
by some evil shit karma
that had streamed from the sky
When I got home
I opened my door
rushed for the washer
put my clothes in
with plenty of bleach
I no longer cared about the colors
then ran for the shower
it had clung to my ass
like a second skin
with bits of pepper and corn
so I peeled it off
and soaked in the stream
soaped from head to toe
and rinsed
and soaped and rinsed
again and again
Afterward
smelling like a freshly powdered baby
I relaxed into my easy chair
lit a cigarette
cracked open a beer
and began to write
Preacher
It was a typical
Saturday night
we were out
at the bars
drinking
It was 2:00 AM
and we had just left
when we saw him
He had on a bright red jacket
and a bible under his arm
and preached
God, and chastity
and temperance
"Put your faith
in the lord" he said
and "only Jesus
can save you"
Some ignored him
others swore
and still others
pushed him
out of their way
as he tried
to engage them
in an argument
on morality
and the evils
of drink
and drugs
He harassed them
pushing and shoving
one after another
but the cops
hassled the beggars
and never challenged him
We watched
as he turned
in the moonlight
and beneath
his red jacket
we could see
a 45 automatic
in case God
didn't show
up in time
Again
"Hey," she said
"are you Ron?"
"Yes," I said
"That's me"
"I really liked
the pictures
you took
of our band"
"Oh, you're
welcome,"
I said
"You take
really good
pictures,"
she said.
"Oh, I'm
just an amateur,"
I said
"No I really
think they're great,"
she said
"Would you like
to fuck me?"
I said
Then she frowned
and walked away
and never
spoke to
me again
I Drank, She Said
There's not enough time
I said
Then we'll make time
she said
Let's have a drink
I said
Let's make love
she said
Let's have a drink
I said
She said
that's all you
ever think about
and then you can't
get it up, you wake
up in the morning
and instead of
coffee you pour
yourself a stiff
one or crack open
a brew or pop
a cork, your liver
must be pate' by
now and your
brain so fried
you shake at
everything but me
Le-e-et's have a dri-i-ink
I said
Oh, a-a-all r-i-ight
she said
Just One More Sip
If I were to take
another drink
it would be death
raw and blinding
my blood dripping
from a whore's teeth
at the edge of time
this fear seems perpetual
yet over the space of hours
dies in moments of delight
drained from a glass of wine
so I kill another
and yet another bottle
lie then
in a stuperous state
lids half open
face numb
my world spinning
brain in orbit
and the very next day
my head beneath
a sledgehammer
amused
to be still alive
---------------------------------------------------------
Notes on Waiting for Five and the Bottle
* Lucky Disaster - Ron would sometimes announce when reading this poem publicly, that the part with the police officers never happened. The rest of it did, though. I remember. I was there.
-- Tom Miller
