We Been There Before

This poem recently won first place in the Big River Writing Contest sponsored by Chesterfield Arts and Stages St. Louis. The contest celebrates Mark Twain & the Missouri River Valley region.

It is you, the spinner and weaver, we see
big and brash and full of life
a painter with the finest and sharpest of tools
a splendid fool
squatting like a tired but ever-watchful sentry
on the corner of a raft of rough-hewn logs
floating freely down the mightiest of American rivers
in the dark of night
listening in on the quiet, guarded, late-night conversation of three boys
fleeing civilization in search of adventure.

It is you, the teller and singer, we hear,
winking and jabbing and nudging
a fiddler with a perfect and practiced bow
laughing low
giggling, nearly bursting like a child at church
at the voices delivering his own eulogy and the cries and tears of the women
or, it is you, silently and fearlessly hiding from an on-the-lam Injun
in a damp and ancient Missouri cave
fretting a world absent of danger and filled with school marms and Sunday school
and girls in white frilly dresses who will one day, no doubt, need to be kissed.

It is you, the bringer of gifts, we await
honest and true and simple
a Santa Claus of stories and pitch-perfect lies
grinning sly
knowing from practice and gut instinct
that if you filled a jumping frog named Dan’l Webster with buckshot we would laugh
or, we would learn from experience and so escape the ignorant wisdom of the day
sitting on another rough-hewn raft
listening to an illiterate, obstinate, good-for-nuthin’ boy
telling an escaped slave that he would rather burn in hell than give him up.

We been there before.