Medicine Show

A Crone Poem

[Flea Market Knoxville 1987]

Medicine Show

“Lovers of Pinot Grigio tend to be romantic and love excitement in their life. They love to meet new people and can be seductive.” — The Internet

I sit, quietly, on the edge
(of my chair, of my sanity)
waiting for my to-go order.
I am wound too tight
to stay and eat in this place.
It has been five days now:
no nicotine.
Three days since
the (no-coincidence)
panic attack
from which I
continue to reel.

I need to hunch
alone in the truck
over the foil container
of greasy grub
shovel it in
get it over with and
get some ketchup on
the steering wheel
and droopy lettuce on my lap
while I’m at it,
manifest my inner sticky mess
externalize it.

***

She enters.
I hear her before I see her,
her voice 
a loud dash of Ethel M,
a prim pinch of Kathleen T,
a dignified dollop of QE2.

I’ll have a Pinot Grigio!
she proclaims dramatically,
to the barkeep
then adds, tone regal:
With two ice cubes!
[Pause]
And a Dr. Pepper.

I, her only other audience,
snap from daydream
at this final flourish,
and remember a joke I heard
thirty years before,
a comedian explaining
how bartenders can tell 
when someone is underage. 
They order Scotch and Dr. Pepper! 

This woman is not underage.
She is older than me
which means she is very old
or at least pretty old.
I could pity her for her
day drinking alone,
make her a literary device
in the story of my life,
the representation of who
I might have been
had I not quit.

Honestly though—
I love her.
I love her too bright
white sneakers.
I love her decisiveness. 
I love how she receives the following
Very Bad News:

There is no Pinot Grigio in the house.

She considers this,
alights upon a solution,
announces: 
Well then
I’ll take a vodka and Sprite—
Grey Goose!

Her equanimity
stands the test yet again
when she is informed
So very sorry but
We haven’t any Grey Goose either.
Unflapped, she agrees—
Tito’s will do the trick,
then tells the keep 
to just go ahead and
Make it a double!

This entire exchange
whips me back
to my fledgling smoker days, 
when I wanted to be cool,
wanted to stop bumming,
wanted to buy my own,
wanted to commit.

I marched into the shop and,
attempting confidence, 
asked for some 
Parliament Ultra Lights,
only to be told:
Brand Not Available Here.
I looked at the guy 
and 
not wanting to appear unversed 
in matters tobacco,
asked for the only other brand I knew.
Camel Non Filters, then.
He took my money.
Did not laugh in my face.

***

My order is ready.
It took long enough.
It didn’t take nearly long enough.
Now I won’t know
the ending.
I am going to hunch
in my truck.
What will this Dr. Pepper fan 
do when I’m gone?
Another double vodka?
Ouzo and sloe gin?
Goldschwager and birch beer? 

I step toward the exit.
She speaks again.
Crispy bacon she declares
Blueberry pancakes—
a short stack.
[Pause]
And whipped cream—
DO NOT FORGET
THE WHIPPED CREAM.

Satisfied, she settles 
back on her stool,
double vodka in hand, 
awaiting breakfast for dinner.

***

In my truck
I assume the hunch position.
I wolf.
Ketchup smears the steering wheel.
Droopy lettuce dots my lap. 
Splayed across the shotgun seat
an array of
tinctures, potions and pills:
vitamins, supplements, essential oils. 
Plus some
good old fashioned 
Big Pharma
for days when 
Woo Woo isn’t enough. 
All these remedies, East and West,
recommended by my doctor
(who is actually a nurse)
to alleviate 
the suffering
of letting go.

Ram Dass said
We are all just 
walking each other home.
Maybe though,
we are all just
walking each other
to the 
Medicine Show,
nodding with feigned interest
at one another’s choices,
promised remedies
to cope.

I see your
Tito’s and whipped cream,
your crispy bacon and short stack.
And I raise you:
a blister pack of lavender pills,
one wild cherry gummy,
and a bottle of 
propranolol
that sounds like
little maracas
when you shake it.

Show me your hand now,
Then let’s be done.
Oh
I am 
so ready to fold.

JOY & BEAUTY DEPARTMENT

The Lawnmower Report

I didn’t mow this week but I did receive this wonderful cactus which I have named LBJ—that stands for Le Big Johnson.

NOTES:

Thanks for being here! If you can swing a $5 per month subscription (or $30 per year—such a bargain!) I hope you’ll consider that. It also helps if you share this with someone you think will dig it.

I’m taking off next week. Catch y’all in June.

MONDAYS through May 19th, I will be offering a FREE WRITING WORKSHOP at the San Marcos Public Library from 10 am til noon. Information Here. No need to register, you can just show up.

My FREE WRITING WORKSHOPS at Hampton Branch Library happen on the first and third Tuesdays of every month from 5:30-7:30 pm. These always fill up so please REGISTER.

Ranch Writing Day! June 7, 2025, from 10 am til 1 pm. It’s donation based. I’ll be serving fresh pastry baked by me and delicious coffee from local roasters Wild Gift. We’ll write for 90 minutes and share for 90 minutes. You can REGISTER FOR FREE HERE.

I am back to taking donations of clothes, toiletries, bedding, eyeglasses, and water bottles to distribute to Austin’s downtown homeless population, aka The Neighbors, who I serve on Thursday mornings at the Central Presbyterian Church. If you have stuff to donate, shoot me a note and let’s make a plan for pick up/drop off. Also CPC needs more volunteers. You do have to get up at the crack of Tony Orlando and Dawn but it is such satisfying work and the volunteer crew is great. Holler if you want details.

Have a great week y’all.