“Six For Sad Tina”


I sat with Tina

on laid-down telephone pole

as she puked and cried.

 

I saw her naked

dance a couple times – nice legs

but she had nose-runs

 

The old nekkid-dance

chall had lots of that darkness:

Outlaws-n-angels!

 

Every so now-then

Tina’d come ’round my old bar

and watch me kill shrimp,

 

She’d sour a whiskey

while I dipped beer and then soared

into her deep eyes.

 

And neither of us

ever could answer my quest:

why love a ba*d girl?

 

  • (The final stanza of haiku about Tina slipped a bon-temps past me: I typed and published “And neither of us/ ever could answer my quest:/ why love a bid girl.  It was supposed to read on that last line: why love a bad girl? I have edited in the change, but when I break out each haiku for its own publishing both versions will appear.  Tina, an actual, real, girl I knew who actually lived in Sanford and worked as a “dancer” and server at the now defunct nude bar Circus Circus just South of the more long-term and more infamous Club Juana, now both delightfully gone to make room for a US. 17-92 and State Road 436 (Semoran Boulevard) overpass, was awash in in bad guys, drugs and defeated women who punished themselves daily and nightly often to keep fatherless children fed and clothed.  And, of course,  if you had a habit or an Ol’e Man who wanted a new bike or some god damned thing and you were his money pit you shrugged yes and went to work and died a little more each day.  The light almost was out of Tina’s eyes when I first met her.  I held the hair out of her face as she puked her guts out sitting on the downed telephone poles that served as parking-lot guides to keep the drunks from driving through the walls.  She’d dome back sometimes to sit across from me in the booth all the way to the back where I’d drink from a pitcher of beer – and occasionally invested with zip-locked ice to keep it cold but not always – and read my books and sometimes play some chess, either against someone who looked a revese-image of me in a mirror I always could beat or someone else.  I hope that long, tall, lady of sorrows found succor and some measure of comfort and trust in herself and others. The memory breaks my heart and the other parts of the story grate still on my last shred of conscience.)

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