North Hatley & Hokey Cahooty
by Brian Campbell
[ poetry - july 06 ]
North Hatley
Bric-a-brac of halter tops, West Coast tee shirts, gazebos,
a certain woman's slender arms. Happy-face suns,
apple-cheeked children hanging in the art galleries
in a ravenous era
reflect the calculated cuteness
of gingerbread houses on wooded hills.
Let's sit by the water, square-jawed in sunglasses,
foreplay of foreplay in a particular, testicular romance,
watch the speedboats chortle past
under the bridge, before they snarl across the waters.
Those reclining bikinis draw all eyes
to what they hide, the not-so-subtle vanishing points
of haute couture.
We're here on idle.
Speculative, synaptic tensions augment
towards le grand lit dans l'auberge.
Churning mills, belching stacks, Asiatic sweatshops
are safely tucked in the brain
of that chartered accountant over there,
discretely conducting agiotage on his cellular.
Occluded, too, the snowed-in desolation
of this Pleistocene glacial gouge
in the coming winter.
Such a fine wrought iron headboard.
Such a lovely view.
Are there handcuffs in the drawer?
Hokey Cahooty
Banjo straw hat
tooth-stumped heehaw
haystack bale wrap
whicker hickey quack.
Chuff chuff tractor
sun splash feed corn
bull humpin' chicken splittin'
honky-tonk stat.
Cowbell moo moo
cluck cluck woo woo
barnyard tub o' lard
gotta get 'em fat.
Yeehah heehah
ho ho Mable
gang bang rickety shack
down the back lap.
