And made so damn much split stuff

I plumb wore out a sledgehammer head

And a couple o’ pairs of elk-hide gloves.

So you boys can write it down as gospel when I tell you

The hardest work you’ll find in this world

Is digging the grave for someone you loved.

There It Is

They can do

Whatever you

Can’t stop them

From doing.

You can do

Whatever you

Can pull off

And still live

With yourself.

Knowing When to Stop

You’ve had too much

When you can’t remember

How much you’ve had

And wouldn’t give a rat’s ass

If you could.

Vacation Expenses

Back from his annual two-week vacation in Petaluma,

I notice Willie is slow with his shovel

As we set a gate post at the south end of Temple Flat.

I kid him, “What’s the matter, Willie, you forget

How to run that Irish backhoe in the big city?”

And though he snaps back, “Shit, I wore out

More shovels before I had a hair on my ass

Than you’re likely to use in your whole life,”

For Willie the response is halfhearted,

And he does seem to be moving a little sore.

“Feeling puny?” I inquire.

“A bit,” he allows.

Tamps some more rock around the post,

Then leans on the shovel handle like a Caltrans worker

And gazes across the flat into the brown summer hills.

“You know,” he shakes his head,

“A man’s plumb crazy to ever go to town.

First nine days of vacation I spent drinking whiskey,

Then spent about five minutes getting the ever-living shit

Stomped out of me by some Mexican field workers

I pissed off in a South Street bar.

Then I spent most of the night in the drunk tank

pissing blood

Before they yarded me over to County Hospital

Where I spent the rest of my vacation.

Figure $500 on whiskey, a grand on fines,

And another $4700 for them fucking hospital bills.

Them Mexican fellers might have stomped me stupid,

But I ain’t dumb. Here on out,

I’m taking my vacations twenty minutes at a time,

Right here in the hills,

Just like I’m doing now.”

Basic Precepts and Avuncular Advice
for Young Men

Don’t eat a roadkill you can bounce into your pickup.

Don’t bare-ass the Highway Patrol.

Long odds on short money is usually a loser.

Don’t confuse the gospel with the church.

Never snitch on family or friends.

Avoid living any place where you can’t take a piss

off the front porch.

Just because it’s simple doesn’t make it easy.

Don’t write a check with your ’gator mouth

that your lizard ass can’t cash.

If you don’t want her, don’t whistle.

Don’t get between two dogs kicking dirt.

Anybody can mash potatoes; takes a chef to make gravy.

You’re never too poor to pay attention.

Don’t mumble around paranoids.