Monday, January 19, 2015

Day 14 - Trailer Park Queens and Sovereign Angels

At 3 a.m. I kicked over the dog's water bowl while letting Elvis out. Stepped right in it in and soaked my socks up to the ankle bone . I hate getting my feet wet.  I don't know how ducks do it.


She was the queen of the trailer park in her day.  I was just a kid but I still remember the first day she showed up. Everybody from the Shady Acres Mobile Home Community all of a sudden had big business to take care of out on their front stoops. We'd all heard the rumors, and   just had to get a good look for ourselves. Even had some knuckle-draggers from the double-wide side come around to investigate.

When a girl like Lurlene shows up word gets around pretty quick. Don't get me wrong - we had some real pretty little squealers running around the Shady Acres Mobile Home Community, but not a single one had ever had what Lurleen was packin'.

She was easy to look at and Lurlene didn't ever disappoint. Always elegant, she was broad in the hips with small shoulders and what seemed like hundreds of small delicate curves all over that beautifully sculpted form of hers. . A long slender neck and her head tilted back "just-so" all the time. her flawless skin glowed like warm honey.

 She was sassy right from the git-go. When she sang her voice was just as sultry and brassy and wise as it remains even today.Folks can't believe she's 53 years old.  She loved a good time and still does. All these years later she can still shake and roll with the best, even if she rattles a little.

From outward appearances, time's been hard on Lurlene.  She wasn't always "handled" well and over time she was used pretty hard by men who had no idea what they were holding onto, or letting go of.

She sat around neglected for long lonely years, just living for those "sparse and getting sparser" Saturday nights when the idiot in the recliner, the one perpetually parked in front of a TV dinner watchin "COPS" with a Budweiser in his hand, would actually look over and pay her some attention.

 She always did  forgive way too easy, it didn't matter how much or how little love was tossed her way, or how long it had been since she'd been touched , she always made the best of every bit of love that ever came her way.  She would sing and croon and swing away again  like she was brand new all over.

Only a fool quits what keeps on getting better with time.  Unfortunately this increasingly trailer-park world never has a shortage of fools. When her beauty faded,  as physical beauty always does, she was treated poorly because of it.  She was passed around some, and she didn't seem to have much say about it,  from what I could tell.  One man after another traded her tender affections and stalwart devotion for their own foolishness - but only after they had mauled and picked at her and even cruelly broken her on occasion. 

When I found Lurleen she was poorly from the neglect and desperate for conversation, Desperate for the blessing of touch. For the warmth of a humans breath on her tired skin. She looked pretty rough at first glance but she still carried a quiet regality about her that whispered through the scars and lines. I knew what she had been in her day -she isn't one bit less than that in my eyes even now. 

It was  Christmas Eve a few years ago.  I was invited to attend an intimate little 300 person "Christmas kegger blowout bash (of the millenium)" at a real nice trailer up by the clubhouse, over on the double-wide side.  I spied Lurlene  right away as soon as I walked into the living room.  All alone, right next to the refrigerator.

 A certifiable moron of low-breeding had brought her around and then left her standing in that corner all by herself, all night long, looking like an ornament.   He was busy trying to talk his drunk ass into the stripper from unit 12 down the street.

 I started up an easy conversation with Lurleen and we hit it off instantly. Like we had known each other forever. She wasn't one bit bashful once you got her going.  Her tone of voice and her obvious attitude were mesmerizing to me.  She was sexy and willing and before we knew it I was wrapped around her like the corn wrapped around the dog..

 I couldn't leave her alone. The way she would respond to my hands was like nothing I had ever experienced. I took her home that night and we patched each other up the best we could. With a little faith and a lot of gentle attention and a lot of time - caressing, squeezing, stroking, and ultimately just listening and playing with her - she grew to trust me completely. To trust again. 

When I look at her now, I never see her lines or the cracks in that once glamorous figure, the one that once graced mail-order catologues and slick teen magazines.. I can only listen to her sing.  I close my eyes and she can take me immediately  as her willing prisoner. Right  to the shining gilded gates of paradise, just as easily as she transports me to a back country dirt road 50 years ago, and the dry smell of wheat dust dancing on beams of sunshine. 

She has magic in her soul. Every time I hold her, I feel her soft resistance, and her complete willingness, in my hands, and I know she is once again "ready for a rodeo" . She breathes in time with me, her heart is like my own. She is fearless. 

 The patina of age that rests on us both now, that paints me so harshly,  paints her in vivid hues and brilliant streaks of passion and warmth and timeless eroticism.  Shades and strokes that would make Salvador Dali and God himself weep tears of pure joy for their beauty. Her whispers can bring down mountains when she's in the throes of her passion.

And Time only serves to make her stronger and more beautiful when she's loved right. Fella's you might want to take note.

  Now..... meet ........................."Lurleen".
"Lurleen" - 1962 Silvertone

Todays Barnyard Wisdom:

"Living in abundance while possessing the ability to affect positive changes in the lives of people in need - and then choosing not to?...... "That's the most hopeless definition of poor"

"I don't give a golf ball from a Gulag, Vladimir Putin looks as much like Skeletor as James Carville ever did."

Arnie Greene, - longtime Colorado tour-de-force, a wonderful passionate musician, a wonderful friend and colleague, and a dearly loved human being - has left this world and headed on home as of yesterday.

 God Bless you Arnie - we're all grateful for every note and every smile you ever produced.  Prayers for your daughter that you loved so deeply,  and to all of us who grieve your passing today. We're grateful for the angel that now looks down upon us all,  gently with a smile made of pure sunshine, imploring us to "groove"

"Peace Out"
"Don't take any wooden nickels"
Until manyana

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