“…to get a drink?!”
Rollie was funny as hell but
in those days, ‘queer’ jokes were
all the rage (except around me)
But Rol never made fun of local queens
or butch girls who beat the pavement
in biker boots back in Bingo
Walking Manhattan with Rollie and Jo
and tomorrow morning’s groom
(later, my ex-husband)
All my fave boys were there
We took my family for
a walk on the sparkly side
Drag show, which bar?
We walked in to claim our
Night Before Wedding toast
(most men have bachelor parties;
I’ll give my ex credit for that)
Drag star, Connie Lee Francis
Finished “Where the Boys Are”
Stood at bar, waving glove at
bartender, then a flirty falsetto,
“What does a girl have to do…”
Thirsty girl, she dropped to baritone
“BOURBON ON THE ROCKS!”
We didn’t have a proper laugh
until later – the whole thing
The setting, the show
Her range of voice; she had
no choice. Like I said…
Thirsty girl
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
The second of three consecutive poem/stories about my late brother-in-law, Rollie Newton.
Matt and Casey, this one’s for you. Bet you didn’t know your dad rolled this cool. Love you guys. I will link this up with an Open Post this week as well. Peace, Amy
Rollie, Amy, and Bob, July 1984
Pre-Wedding Surprise (Rollie, Part I)
What a night
Jo and Rollie drove down
from our hometown to NYC
We chowed Chinese, then
scrabbled cross Canal
A little Italian style
La Bella Ferrara
Sinatra-stacked juke
“Summer Wind” as we
strolled in for cannoli
Surprise! Down the block
in full swing was
the San Genaro Festival
Smiling street vendors
Splendy Christmas lights
Rides, rides, rides
Rollie, Bob and I fly
spinning on the Twirl N Puke
Bob’s brother Roy
brought his camera and
just for fun, with arms
stretched above his head,
snapped photos – but didn’t
know what would develop
Who would know he’d
hit the jackpot shot
Four years later,
Rollie was gone gone gone
This happenstance photo
is how he lives on
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
This is the first of a TRIPTYCH about Rollie. If you want to read more, I just posted #2m and the third will probably go up Tuesday or Wednesday. Check back then if you wish!
dverse Poets asked for poems with repeated words or phrases. This was written yesterday, so I suppose it was meant to be! Also submitting to Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Open Link Monday.
Bob (now Rob) was my first husband, father of Riley. His brother Roy has the most incredible luck – timing – he’s a drummer! Rollie was my sister Jo’s husband; more about him as we go through a three-day reflection on a sweet man who died suddenly – and far too soon. Check out the pic again and see the big man with the big heart. Peace, Amy
The Couple at the Altar
They stand before the altar
Penitent and sure of their love
Pastor eases them through vows
Rings, unbroken circle of commitment
Pews on the bride’s side are empty
because relatives disapprove
damaging Cathy’s feelings
on her wedding day
Friends move across the aisle
to ease her distress
Her fragile ego soothed
by their kindness
Final moment: Pastor
pronounces them married
They kiss; the congregation
goes wild, whooping, cheering
Cathy and Mariana Smith-Lopez
had to visit Iowa to receive a
legitimate marriage certificate,
but this is the real wedding
Mari’s mom, Aida, smothers Cathy,
“my new daughter-in-law,” con besos.
The four Lopez brothers lift their
new sister aloft, like the World Cup.
They parade her around the hall.
DJ spins Indigo Girls and Regina Spector.
Their first dance, “You Do Something to Me,”
a duet by k.d. lang and Tony Bennett
“Tough luck for Mom and Dad,” whispers
Cathy, “they looooove Tony Bennett!”
Mariana holds her new wife closer
as they snicker and dance on air
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Our church is UCC (United Church of Christ), the first mainstream Christian denomination to recognize “same-sex marriage,” although I prefer “marriage equality,” more descriptive of the struggle for civil rights LGBTs and their Allies wage. I’ve been an Ally since age 5! While equal rights for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people is not yet recognized in Wisconsin, our church performs blessings for LGBT couples. Ray and Oscar, paz siempre a su casa.
Three Word Wednesday gave us Damaging, Ego, and Legitimate. This is also “in the margins” at my two poetic homes, Imaginary Garden With Real Toads and Poets United. Peace, Amy
Wedding Night Waxes
He carried her over the threshold
of their bridal suite:
Room 5 at the local Super 7
(couldn’t afford the Super 8)
She said she had prepared
a “goodie bag” for their wedding night
“What kind of goodies?” he asked, and
she just winked and smiled.
The Marriage Bed, they called it,
laughing (the baby was due in May)
They sat on the edge, making small talk
by the light of TCM classics on TV
She grabbed the mystery bag
Vanished into the bathroom and
squeezed into the silken nightie
she found on Clearance at Victoria’s Secret
(a bit swollen, but still sexy)
At that moment
the TV flickered off and
lights outened themselves with a snick
“Babe,” he called, “power’s out…
You OK in there?”
Her answer, opening the bathroom door
She held a basket with wine, crackers and cheese
In her long red lingerie, she stood
bathed in candleglow
“When I said I put all we needed
in the goodie bag, I wasn’t kidding”
His answer, a low, appreciative whistle
A single candle, stuck in a precious bottle:
The very first Chardonnay they ever shared
It was in the cab of his truck
They’d traced constellations and snuggled
and the baby was probably conceived
under Venus’ approving gaze
Now wax stribbled down the green bottleneck,
obscured the label, pooled on the night stand
as wick flickered…
a newborn light
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Poets United’s Wonder Wednesday asked for poems about wax, candlelight, and such. Candles are the cheapest accessory for romance, so I thought about a young couple who didn’t have much but each other and took off from there. Peace, Amy
Silken Softness
My mom, Charlotte,
grew up in Iowa.
Council Bluffs, to be exact.
Recession, then Depression
brought the town to its knees,
at least until corn season.
Mom said Grandma Blanche
could make anything
from corn in a skillet:
Corn cakes, corn pone,
corn bread, but the best was
corn alone.
In the field, the poor were
allowed to glean from
Old Man Jones’ field.
Yanking from stalks,
home to shuck the ears.
Corn silk was, for Charlotte,
a miracle, a treasure. She said,
“I hope someday my wedding dress
will be as soft as this corn silk.”
Blanche marveled at
how her girl could always
make magic from simple things.
It’s a Laughlin tradition,
passed from Blanche to Charlotte,
from Charlotte to lucky me.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Poets United, my favorite site, asked for food-inspired, home-grown tales. Can’t get more “down home” than this!
Sharp Little Pencil 