Tim Hunt

Redneck Homily with Closing Prayer

Not all Good Ol’ Boys measure
the size of their dicks by how high
their pickup truck sits
on them oversized tires,
      but some do.

Not all Good Ol’ Boys figure
the measure of a woman
is her ass in a pair of jeans,
      but some do.  Yeah.  They do.

Not all Good Ol’ Boys hate
the Coloreds,’cause it feels better
to have somethin’ to hate.
      Ah, but some do.  They surely do.

And not all Good Ol’ Boys swear
on the Bible and wonder where
the Good Ol’ went as they flip
out the Master’s Card at Best
Buy for some righteous gear.
      But some do.  Sure do.

Oh Lord, hollowed be Thy name,
and deliver us from all this shit.
In the name of Bubba, your Son,
who surely died for someone’s sins:
The Power and Glory
and NASCAR for Ever.

Amen.

Night Out

At the karaoke bar, everyone’s a star
as the boys and girls no longer boys
and girls parade up, drink in hand, to sing
their Golden Oldie: Oh, “Somebody

to Love” and “Coat of Many Colors.”
Even “Strangers in the Night” and “Help,
I need someone.”  And, too, as if Janis:
“Little Girl Blue” and “A Woman Left Lonely.” 

Oh, shooby dooby do, who will be
tonight’s Bobby McGee
and help her make it
through the night.

 

Tim Hunt’s collections include Ticket Stubs & Liner Notes (winner of the 2018 Main Street Rag Poetry Book Award) and Voice to Voice in the Dark (forthcoming, Broadstone Books).  Originally from the hill country of northern California, he now lives in Normal, Illinois, which is not hill country.