Paint upon the canvas thick
old woman in the barroom’s sick
with alcohol disease
Leftover bits of dirty sandwich
hang from her mouth as
she stutters about college football

Her old man tries to sort things out
but her speech is far too gone
her face a faded a song
Sixty years of tragedy
treading in life’s murky seas
I wonder if she’s this man’s wife
or just an aging trick he picked up
in his travels

He asks to settle up
and I take his five dollar bill
still wondering how these two
wound up the way they are
her in a wheelchair
him without a car
He asks for the phone
to call them a cab
and they wait by the door
as life passes by
swirling colors in the blink of an eye

Iris, Iris
your powder blues and deep-ridged greens
make the most delicate impression on my quivering mind
Flowers sway and sing in time
in keys of azure waxing slick
the paint upon the canvas thick

He wheels her out into the street
shaking off defeat’s dust
until the cold winter rains come
extinguishing flickering flame

- Oct. 7, 2002 / Athens, Ga.