Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Notes on Zana's Scarecrow Photo

                       —from a photo by Zana Darrow

The scarecrow wants to escape to the islands,
but he's landlocked in the backwoods of Wisconsin.
He's a hunter, a redneck, or a logger,
wearing an aloha lei over his plaid shirt.
His belt buckle is a flattened beer can
of finest aluminum alloy.
He's into supersizing, he eats a lot
of Wonderbread washed down with beer.
Smokes a little Maui-wowie when he can get it.
He's a bit shady. His other truck is a truck.
He's either unemployed,
the welfare checks have run out,
or else he's a writer
(the full beard that's seen no razor in years)
or else he's my first ex-boyfriend
(Sweet Old Bob) gone retro-native, the shit.
Life is shitty, everybody dumps on him
so he takes a dump in the woods
to get back to nature, he says.
Or maybe a tornado whirled his house away
while he was sitting on the pot.
Or he's waiting for hunting season
and the deer to come to him…
But at the crossroads on the edge of town,
the topless bars are hopping.
He reckons he'll have to sit this one out.

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