First Snow in Ekalaka

The sky was thick and dark over that quaint Montana town,
when Hogg rolled in mad as hell from sleeping on the ground.
A cold rain fell the night before, and he was mighty wet,
but what made him so damn mean was it soaked his cigarettes.
He rumbled up to the Buckhorn bar and spit on the sidewalk,
the Harley taking up two spots, but that’s the way he parks.
Now Lilly May was tending bar, watching football on TV,
she’d just told Mel, the regular, the Eagles, were too goddamn sissy.
Everybody, meaning just the two, turned when Hogg stomped in.
Lil looked back at the tube, “Them Steelers gonna win.”
“A pack of Marlboros, red,” Hogg yelled out at the room,
and if I had whisky now, it wouldn’t be too soon.”
Lilly say’s “Too bad cowboy, all we got is lights”
And Hogg says, “God damn you all,” like he was achin’ for a fight.
“Here’s your whisky,” Lilly slammed the shot glass down,”
Hogg says, “What the Hell you call this here god-forsaken town?”
Lilly didn’t say a thing, just turned up the TV.
“I asked you a question, bitch, or didn’t you hear me”.
When Lilly looked back she squinted with a scar across her face,
A cut from many years ago when she worked at Harold’s place.

Now outside the wind got to howlin, and snow began to fall,
then some tin slammed by real quick, like it been hit with a wrecking ball.
“It’s gonna be a rough one,” Ol Mel said, adjusting in his seat,
and out the window he couldn’t see the buildings across the street.
“Not a good day to be a biker,” Mel looked across the bar,
But Hogg was thinking he recognized the barmaid with the scar.
Hogg then got to thinkin’ “With this snow like buckets falling down,”
that he’d best get a move-on or he’d be stuck in the god-forsaken town.
He put a ten spot on the bar, “A pint of Jack to go.”
If you drink it here, it’ll be on me,” Lil said, kinda rough and slow.
Hogg took that bottle and knocked it back like he’d done so many times before.
He belched and smiled a nasty grin, then headed for the door.

A skiff of snow blew in as Hogg left that place.
“He won’t get far,” Lilly said, a smile across her face.
The Harley roared to life, the sound muffled by the snow,
Mel and Lil looked outside, glad to see Hogg go.
As the motorcycle headed to the darkness of the West,
the snow did blind and sting, but Hogg, he did his best.
It wasn’t too much further on the bridge that lead from town,
Hogg, he missed the curve and laid that Harley down.
The crash was loud, awakening the sleepy little burg,
and even in the barroom, the smash, it could be heard.

Mel and Lil, they heading out, not knowing what they’d find,
and they came across Hogg and the bike in just a little time.

Blood mixed with snow and gas and oil splattered on the bridge,
and Hogg he breathed a shallow breath, “Please, I want to live.”

“Should we call the cops?” Mel said, “We need to help this guy.”
“Well, if you couldn’t tell,” Said Lil, “I think he’s gonna die.”
“I met this bastard long ago, he drank at Harold’s place,
he beat the girls with a tire chain, and put this scar across my face.
Sure, we could help him out, give him a chance to live,”
but instead she spit on Hogg’s bloody face and kicked him in the ribs.

They walked slowly to the bar, Lil, with a curious smile.
“If the bastard wants to smoke,” She says, “he can smoke in Hell.”

© 2005, KEH