Thursday, July 7, 2011

Sandy Beech,
( and before you start ripping on her name
she knows 'em all and will beat you to it)
was a crew cook in a smallish show.
We met my first summer on the road,
in Kentucky, or Missouri.
I spent fifteen hours cutting wire
and making cords, dealing with
thieves and sneaks, near-broke carnies
trying to keep their gear running
haggling a lot harder than I was.
Sandy brought me a plate of ribs and beans,
and a cool quart of Milwaukee's Best beer.
I offered to pay her and she walked away,
half singing "Pay me later, big boy."
That’s as much of the story as anyone needs to know.