Late start on writing the spin post this week, but I did spin on Monday and again this morning. Nothing really hit me as memorable on Monday, I guess.
This morning, “The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac was one of the last songs before the session ended. Fleetwood’s Rumors album is one that I wore out years ago in college. There were a few albums like that for me. Carole King’s Tapestry was another that had deep grooves from being played over and over again.
I’ve never liked “The Chain” that much, but it had a great driving beat to spin to this morning. So here’s a poem that runs in that vein. A bit of grown-up Huck, a book that I’ve read way too many times. This poem was published a few years ago in Alligator Juniper, a really well done college lit magazine.
Midlife Adventures with Huck Finn
One pan-fried August evening
Huck eyed his hair-lipped wife eating
half-price appetizers at a local bar, and said:
“Joanna, I love you – but I’m not
in love with you.”
After tiresome-long years of selling stocks,
scrabbling up ladders, sucking up to managers,
he was sick of the human race, tired of her lip.
Huck wanted to rev up a chopper.
No, there was no other woman.
It was Huck’s turn to think of himself,
head down river again.
Okay, maybe he’d change his mind
if she’d change her ways.
Like lose ten pounds, quit whining
about being tired, iron his button-downs.
After 23 years, six kids, five moves,
nine job changes, a giant hairball and a dead dog,
Huck told his wife he wasn’t in love.
Not any more.
Later, Joanna shed crocodile tears
until she heard Huck’s buzzsaw snores
rom the basement La-Z-Boy.
Then she hopped on the chopper.
Lit out for the territories.