Thursday, August 7, 2014

Lewis Robert "Hack" Wilson

Lewis Robert "Hack" Wilson

Lewis Robert Hack Wilson

The old time Cubs lid on his head
is sweat stained, saloon-frayed.
Course you don't, Hack chuckles,
It'd be stupid to brawl with me.

I could knock runners in.
Geez, I was 5'6" and 195 muscle-pounds.
Or I could knock a man down hard.
Set the Runs Batted In record in 1930.

Death-heavier than in playing days,
booze-lard over bundled gone-slack muscle,
Hack's eternity is a Prohibition Baltimore
sawdust-floor barroom.  He is wiping down
a game-used maple bat with a rye-soaked
bar towel, cleaning off dirt and pine tar.

Thing about drinkin'...
because I was born to drink,
it's a rockin'-ladder life.
You know you're gonna fall,
because booze is always about fallin'.
I died: the son named after me
refused to claim my corpse.

No comments:

Post a Comment