Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Saturday, February 21, 2009


Another one I literally dreamt up....

Beeville is the kind of place you move away from.

There are silos and an IGA out on Miller Road, out by the old assembly plant.

Its heavy chains loop around the gates like yarn in a girl's hair,

But of course,

Girls haven't worn yarn in their hair for decades.

Out at Beeville High,

The boys' football team is practicing--

They are called the Bucks

And bucked is what they are.

Ricky Lundquist is the best they can do;

The kids call him Fat Ricky

And the football squibs out of his fingers like a link sausage from the hand of an infant

Playing with its food at the IHOP down Highway 90.

The last time Beeville won anything,

It was the lady Bucks in 1990.

They rode their ancient bus to Chesaning and Fowlerburg,

And Becky MacGruder's hook shot would arc through the gyms like a bright planet in the winter sky.

She kicked ass,

And all the lady Bucks would hit the DQ on the way back,

The yellow bus bouncing over the pot holes in the lot

Like a happy drunken duck.

Becky MacGruder has kids of her own now.

They wear a lot of crap around their wrists and necks

And howl like the damned if made to stay home on a Saturday night.

Sometimes if the doorbell rings or the dog gets into something,

Becky will shift her laundry basket from a hip to the stairs

And go off down the hall just like she was driving the lane.

When she gets back,

With somebody's sweatshirt in her hand, plucked off the back of the couch or a kitchen chair,

She balls it up

And sinks it in the laundry basket from fifteen feet,

Nothing but plastic.

Beeville lady Bucks!


It's still on the sign out on Miller Road, even though the "a" in "ch mpions" has fallen off.

They locked up the title

On a crisp night in March--

Locked it up tight like the gates of the assembly plant,

And even Mr. MacGruder, who hardly ever said two words in a week,

Told his daughter how very proud of her he was.


photo credit: Krista Hakola


  1. Very Very Good!! I really liked this one.:))

  2. Hey, thanks for the comment.
    Regarding not being able to load my page, I have been having that problem all week on several blogs, so I don't think it is just mine, at least I hope not.

  3. Thank you, T! I always love it when you visit and comment.

    I dreamt this whole thing last night, though I changed the name of the town from something else to Beeville. I kind of like this business of stories coming to me in my sleep. Easy peezy, lemon squeezy.

  4. I can't believe this just came to you in the night. It is wonderful. I think I have been to Beeville.

  5. I grew up in Beeville, and I can still sink it from 15 feet.

    This made me cry.

  6. LOL...Shay!! I live in Beeville NOW...or a couple of miles outside it anyway. Thanks for stopping by my blog EB...

    I like the way you write, girl.

  7. That sounds just like the little town in Illinois that my mom's family is from.

  8. Are you one of the girls in the photo??

  9. Thanks, Debbie, and yes it did. That's the second time recently, "The Burn" being the other.

    oOo, give it up for "Little Sureshot" Mama Zen! And tears are the best compliment I could get for my work. Thank you.

    Thanks, Akannie, and welcome to the Word Garden!

    I think there are lots of Beevilles out there, RK. Thanks as always for reading and commenting!

  10. No, JF, not me. I would have been the little bookworm way up at the top of the bleachers. ;-)

  11. I for so many reasons love this story. And you are clean and sober for 23 years? Fantastic.
    Quite an accomplishment. I'm proud of you!!!

  12. Thanks for your comment on my blog. It's always nice to meet someone new.

    I have 23 years sober too - Miracle of miracles. Me - since July 5, 1985.

    My best writing is when it just "comes to me". It's always been that way and still is.


  13. Thanks, Gillian!

    Hugs back UC. :-)

    September 29th, 1985 for me PG. September is a buggaboo for me for some reason, still is. Welcome to Word Garden, PG!

  14. came on over from kristin's blog to say HALLLOOOO! i'll be back to read some more...

  15. Hello Shadow! Welcome to the Word Garden. :-)

  16. Do you meditate on the color purple before you go to sleep at night? You have very vivid dreams. Mine are like this: "See Spot. See Spot run." Tee-hee.

  17. Beeville, Texas? I have passe* by there. They still have the best bean tacos there at the gas station by the Xpressway or not?

  18. what can I say, the thought of the lady buck star now happy to make free throws into her laundry basket....truly genius. I have many times thought of how Sylvia Plath might be today had she not met an agreeable end in her oven. I fear it would be a similar fate (see Gloria Steinem).

    The bus bouncing off potholes like a happy drunken duck sealed the deal here. Your insight here was razor sharp and three fold accurate. Infact, you kept this vague enough to be any town, DQ and all.

    I will eventually read and comment on everything you've written, so please do not feel the need to thank me after everyone of them, but you should definitely e-mail me. I am planning on getting Kerry onto the North American continent, we'll need to stop by and pick you up for our poetess roadtrip to something much cooler than anything kerouac or burroughs ever dreamed of going to (split infinitive there due to me being Minnesotan). Viva la

  19. I love the hook shot of the sweatshirt into the laundry basket, memories of glory and a silent father's finally spoken pride in his daughter.

  20. And Becky MacGruder's hook shot would arc through the gyms like a bright planet in the winter sky.

    The perfect moment... rendered into art.


Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?