S(hit) P(ot) Tallman/Stanley Philo Tallman
The old man turned,
His back a scar,
No more would he repair our car.
…out of Vermont’s frigid green mountains to a foggy iver city,
Easier it was than twice-a-day milking,
He opened a garage,
Welding gas tanks’ holes ….
Cigars, cigarettes, lit,
He never blew himself up.
Other devils took him ….
“Look at my back,
One more operation and I’m gone.”
He died before that operation.
Rust encased the garage, cars and gas tanks.
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, date uncertain, and late December 2013
Author: Gene Novogrodsky
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, a Brownsville resident for nearly three decades, writes North American border slices, from eastern Canada to central Mexico, and in between. He is one of the founders of the Narciso Martinez Cultural Arts Center Writers Forum in San Benito. He sometimes participates with the informal Resaca Writers Group in Brownsville. He prefers, however, to read to two or three attentive listeners – when asked!