DEAD FLOWERS IN A FRUIT JAR

            

Dead Flowers In A Fruit Jar

"See you around, girl!" you say hanging out the window

Trying to look sorrowful

"I left you some flowers over yonder to make you think of me!"

And I look toward the window on the porch by the swing

And see a fruit jar full of Black-eyed Susans setting there

Like little spots of sunshine on a cloudy day

And tears sting my eyes.

"Take care now." you post script hastily

And pull that loud ass Grand Prix out of the driveway

And burn rubber down the highway just as fast

As a crazy man can with forty dollars in his pocket

And a dream as big as Texas.

Watching that burnt orange color

As far as I could in the noon day sun,

I felt like a thrown away memory 

In somebody's childhood scrapbook

Standing there like a fool in my cotton dress

And the apron I made cause you said you liked the color yellow on me.

But never got around to buying me a yellow dress or a car or an iron

Or found time to give me that baby girl you always said you wanted

With my eyes and my hair and your smile and your imagination

I imagine I won't ever get that baby now. Or that iron.

I don't imagine I'll ever see your smiling face again in my lifetime

Not now, when you got everything you ever wanted

Waiting for you down the road with a big contract to sign

And shiny new guitars and movie stars to meet

(And of course, that willowy blonde that discovered you

At the roadhouse fifteen Saturday nights ago

Singing "Your Cheating Heart.")

Taking the wash off the line,

I bury my nose in your fresh blue shirt

And wonder if you'll remember that you forgot it

And come barreling back up the road,

Dust clouds twirling about your head like halos

In that ugly orange monstrosity you love more than me

But not as much as yourself.

For a moment I let myself

Look longingly down the road in hopeful wonder

And when minutes pass by

With only the sound of a dog howling

And angry bees in the apple trees buzzing

And that old grandfather clock in the living room chiming

Like the Death March at some body's funeral.

I shrug my proud shoulders and march over to the well,

Take off my wedding ring and throw that damned thing in

Not waiting to hear it ding against the walls

Or splash into it's cold wet depths

But turn and throw the laundry into the wind

Like confetti on Dick Clark's New Year's Eve.

The blue shirt ends up plastered against the side of the barn

Like a bull's eye waiting to get shot at

And I wonder if you took the gun

But feel too sad to shoot it if you didn't

"I hope you're happy." I say crossing the porch

And looking into my empty house,

Down the hall and at the unmade bed

Still strewn with all your empty promises.

A solitary tear runs down my face

And I let it fall into the dust

And say your name so quiet not even I could hear it whispered

"Oh, Lord, don't ever let him be happy." I pray.

And reach to close the door, my brown eyes falling

On the flowers on the floor

Black eyed Susans, your favorites

In a big glass fruit jar of unknown origin

Your parting gift, your way of saying goodbye

When you promised me forever.

In two week's time, they'll be dead and dry

But I'll keep them there until they disappear

And in two month's time, unbeknownst to me,

I'll draw that wedding ring up again

In a bucket full of cold water, shining like fool's gold

And clutch it to my heart

As your voice comes pouring through the radio.

©by Voo

December 5, 2005

2:30 a.m.