Fort Lonesome Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

At the bar after the shift
All were covered with the dust of the mine
A bit of calcareous cake that clung to the skin like some sort of brine
From which you could not shake it, for it was so very fine.

Made from residues of creatures eons ago
That inhabited the land and sea that we all know.
For here in Bone Valley in memory of them who
Gave up their lives with nothing to spare but a fossil or two.

Now the granules, black as coal
Contain phosphate with which crops need to grow.
So man treats it with a sulfurous brew
And soon the products are ready to strew.

The residue remaining is a fine talc like dust
That settles on everything that it happens to touch
Some of the miners look like a ghost walking around
While others are clean as a whistle because another job they've found.

So as we tasted a bit of the brew
It seemed to be lacking but that was nothing new.
For the taste buds give way before all else do
And it's the bang for the buck that's needed by me and you.

On the stool next sitting a bit glum and dreary
Was Bill who was a bachelor if you should query
He lived alone and seemed to like it that way
Sleeping alone and working all day.

So me and Bud approached him that day
And Bud had this in a thoughtful moment to say.
'Bill that waitress seems to like what she sees
And it appears that she wants you for to please.
So why not ask her out and have a good time
After all it's a long weekend away from the mine.

Maybe you can hook up with her
(That's what the youngsters say,
When seeking some words with which to play)
And, what the heck,
Maybe she'll wash the grime off your neck.
(If you know what I mean.'
Said Bud, without coming clean.)

And to our surprise Bill took from that stool a flight
And him and that waitress went off somewhere's that very night.
And they were gone, to where no one knows
But for two days and nights they were probably rubbing each other's noses.

So back on Monday we stopped in to see
If Bill and the waitress would be there aglee.
She buzzed about without showing a care
And Bill just sat there giving his beer a dark stare.

Bud finally worked up the courage and wanted to know
What might have happened on the weekend, blow-by-blow.
Searching for words that would sort of fit.
He finally came up with: 'Well how was it? '

Now Bill who's never been one to waste words on deep thoughts
Just took another sip and studied the foam before he answered about what had been wrought
And finally he said a bit so no one else might hear
As if he was talking to his empty glass of beer:

'Messy isn't it.'

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