This one is dedicated to my little brother, Ken. We used to tease him when he’d show up at the tavern after work with his Stanley twenty-five-footer still hooked to his belt. Just about every guy that ever worked construction will relate to this poem. They’ll also know what the following are: Vaughan, Stanley, Skil, and hoser.
When Am I Gonna Learn
It’s hell to put a hardhat on
When you’re sportin’ a category five hangover
Feels too heavy and tight
But wobbly too, like it might fall off
When am I gonna learn
Sure, she was good lookin’, sorta
Hell, by midnight she was a ten!
Two A.M., an SI swimsuit model!
Chatted me up like we were soul mates
Drinking Cuervo shots on my tab
I make one last trip to the men’s room
Come back and she’s gone… hosed again
I bend over and grab a two-by-four
My head feels like it’s full a wet concrete
28 ounce Vaughans goin’ off behind me like cannons
Hook my Stanley, slap the square, zip the pencil
Same measurement, same movements
The Skil screaming like a broke-dick dog
Same ol’ same ol’, every night & every day
Maybe I need to try a new tavern
Copyright © 2013 C Mashburn
Sharing this on dVerse Poets Pub’s Open Link Night ~ Week 83 this afternoon.