Watercolor on Paper, Laserprint on Tissue
22" x 14" w/o Matte
Prices are negotiable on original art.
Stomach's rumbling like the muffler
on the rusted-out pickup in my rear view mirror
when against the setting sun, I see
The Beefmaster Cafe.
That's what the sign says framed
with red and white light bulbs
neon footnotes flash "Hickory Smoked
Inside, ceiling fans twirl counter-clockwise
as flies fly clockwise around the counter.
He's the Beefmaster,
with a past as checkered as the tablecloths.
Been here since the farm folded—
don't know why.
He stands maybe 6'2" in his white apron.
"Ya'll kin eat outsod. We got music out thar,"
he boasts as the radio’s tin jingle jangles
spill from windows
while he strolls from table to table
and flies buzz in and out.
Mrs. Beefmaster, dressed in nurse-blue polyester hollers,
"Getcha anythang?" as she stands behind
the $3.99 deep-fried
chicken dinner buffet,
turning over corn, carrots,
black-eyed peas that lost their bubble
and mashed potatoes rose fresh on